Serpentine Virtues
by RAfan2421
Summary: AU 22-year-old Harry Potter is a promising young Quidditch star. He is on the brink of completing the most miraculous Cinderella story for England at the 2002 Quidditch World Cup. However, on the eve of the biggest match of his career, Harry is struck by a devastating tragedy. Follow Harry as he struggles to cope, while doing a little soul-searching of his own. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Serpentine Virtues Chapter 1**

** Hello all, and welcome to my new project.**

** I'm trying to write a better story than last time (Bleeding Red and Gold REDUX), and I hope that I have improved. However, please do not expect daily updates from me like last time. I will be taking a three-week vacation starting next week. After that school begins, and I don't know how much time I will have. I will do my best to update periodically, but again, probably no daily updates.**

** Please don't flame me about Harry/Ginny. It isn't the final pairing. Just putting that out there. **

** I hope you enjoy this little tale.**

** WARNINGS: This story is Rated M for various reasons: language, provocative themes, etc. However there will (most likely) be no smut. **

** Disclaimer: This is the first and only disclaimer of the story. I don't own Harry Potter. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and That-Publishing-Company-She-Uses.**

**oOo**

"Jones has the Quaffle, and she's speeding towards the goalposts. Will England finally be able to score? Jones draws back her arm to take the shot and WHAM! Nice Bludger placement by Vulchanov, and England are still scoreless. The Bulgarians are leading the English 100-0. It looks as if time is running out for Harry Potter to do the impossible and bail England out yet again. Will Potter be able to practically single-handedly carry England to the World Cup Final, ladies and gentleman? We shall see…"

Twenty-two year old Harry Potter gritted his teeth in anger and frustration. Damn the stupid "experts" at the Department of Magical Games and Sports who'd chosen this year's starting seven members of the team. It seemed as if the experts and officials of that particular Department were either incompetent, or more interested in revenue from the World Cup rather than actually performing well.

Gwenog Jones was too old to be playing on the international stage against the best in the world. She was nearly thirty-five, and her speed and skill had somewhat diminished from her peak years while leading Holyhead to two consecutive Quidditch League Championships.

Keaton Flitley, another Chaser, was also past his prime. He'd been a decent Chaser, and superb at defence, back in the day, but now he just wasn't good enough to keep up with the young Bulgarian players.

The Beaters as well just couldn't handle the pressure placed on them by their younger Bulgarian counterparts. However, they'd all been chosen because they'd made a name for themselves when they were younger, and the Department had apparently believed that they would be successful. A big mistake, as they'd scored a combine eleven goals throughout the entire tournament. The _entire_ tournament.

The only decent player on the team was Oliver Wood, who had kept games relatively close, giving Harry some time to catch the Snitch before Seekers became irrelevant.

While certainly not arrogant, Harry knew that he and Oliver were pretty much the only reasons that England was even in the semifinals. He'd had to bail the team out quite a few times, including catching the Snitch in an extremely tight 210-200 Round of 16 victory over Brazil. Wood had managed to keep games close enough for the Snitch to actually matter. This game was proving no different, and Harry knew that he'd have to find the Snitch and fast if he wanted a shot at winning the game. The Bulgarians had already passed the hundred point mark, and didn't look like they were going to stop anytime soon. Wood was only able to slow them down so much. Bulgaria had even began using a Chaser to tail and harass Harry as much as possible, in an effort to prevent him from seeing and catching the Snitch.

Krum, still the Bulgarian Seeker, was also no slouch. Even though it was eight years since he'd lost to Ireland in the finals with the rest of his team, he'd only gotten better, and Harry nearly bit on a couple of his Wronski Feints. The two Seekers were currently merely prowling the pitch, searching for the Snitch. Krum was much more relaxed than Harry. He could count on his Chasers winning the match in only a couple moments, especially considering the dismal performance by England's Chasers.

The commentary continued,

"Levski has the Quaffle. He passes to Ivanova. Bulgaria is controlling both Bludgers at the moment, so England's Beaters are completely helpless at this point. Jones, who looks to be relatively okay after getting hit in the arm with a Bludger, looks to intercept Ivanova. She takes another Bludger, this time to her left shoulder, for her troubles. Wood looks to block the shot, and he does. What a performance by Oliver Wood in this semifinal. Despite letting through ten goals, he has performed spectacularly, and has made at least thirteen saves. If only the rest of England, Potter excluded, would give him some help…"

Just then, Harry caught a glimpse of what looked like a glint of gold in the corner of his eye. He immediately snuck a look at Krum while still following the Snitch. Krum was looking the other way. The Bulgarian Chaser who'd been tailing him had drifted off a little, going to help the other Chasers on offense, thinking that they could quickly pass the one-fifty mark that would make Seekers irrelevant.

Harry immediately dove towards the Snitch, weaving between the Chasers and Beaters who had been flying around them below.

It took them a moment to recover, but Bulgarian Beaters Vulchanov and Draganov both sent the two Bludgers that they'd been controlling for practically the whole match right at him. Forced to perform the Sloth Grip Roll in order to avoid getting nailed, he lost a lot of precious speed, and Krum easily caught up to him and then passed him.

Still, Harry had always fancied himself a fast flyer, and there was nobody faster than him when diving. At least not in the English leagues.

He was slowly gaining ground on Krum, and soon he pulled level. Choudry, one of England's Beaters, had finally gotten hold of a Bludger and sent it at Krum, forcing him to dodge, checking his speed and letting Harry catch up to him. They were neck and neck, arms outstretched, hands grasping at the little winged ball. Unfortunately for the two Seekers, the Snitch was not going down without a fight. It quickly lifted out of the dive, avoiding the snatching fingers of Krum, and then dodging Harry's wild swipe. The crowd roared, as both Seekers plummeted, their feet brushing the grass, before they simultaneously rose and chased after the Snitch.

The Snitch weaved through the players effortlessly, with Harry and Krum struggling to keep up. They took a few injuries while they were at it, as Harry suffered a boot to the face from Levski, while Krum nearly crashed into Gwenog Jones.

When they finally burst free from the pack of players, they continued to climb, and looped through the air, following the Snitch's wild bid for freedom. Finally closing in on the damned ball, Harry knocked his counterpart's hand away. Knowing he only had seconds before Krum would knock him aside, he dove a little bit forward, nearly losing control of his broom in the process. Thankfully, he lunged forward just enough that he brushed the Snitch with his middle finger, and managed to coax the struggling ball towards his thumb, and he grasped the ball firmly between his two fingers, before closing his fist just as Krum knocked into him, nearly knocking him clean off his broom as he tried to regain control.

Still, he held his hand up in triumph, showing to the ref and the crowd of his achievement. The stadium exploded, with England's fans cheering wildly. England were in the Quidditch World Cup Finals for the first time in their history!

Wood hit him first. He'd always done so, even on their regular season team, Chudley. Wood would always be there to celebrate with him first after every single triumph, from his Hogwarts days, until now, at the international Quidditch World Cup. It was an absolutely marvelous occasion, and Harry felt incredibly jubilant at the victory.

After the celebrations had died down a little, and the veela horde below had been somewhat controlled, the victorious English Team shook hands with the dejected Bulgarians. After the press conference, in which Harry continued to defend his teammates for their performances, despite his thoughts on the contrary, Harry and the rest of his teammates headed out to a local bar for a drink.

Soon, a drink led to two, then four, and then it just led to a night of drinking. Finally, Ron and Hermione, searching for him, found him at the bar and dragged him home, where Ginny gave him a dressing down before helping Harry clean up somewhat, before they headed to bed.

**oOo**

After the war, Harry Potter hadn't been sure what to do with himself. He had originally wanted to be an Auror, but a lot of the shine and prestige of the job was gone after seeing so many deaths in the final battle against Voldemort. He had no other real career paths to pursue though, so Harry enrolled in Auror school. For the first couple years, he was content. He worked at the Auror office, he rekindled his relationship with Ginny, and he'd done his best to succeed at becoming an Auror.

He would've become an Auror if Ginny hadn't been studying literature and writing at the same time. One day she got a job as a sports columnist, and became hugely successful for her succinct, accurate reports of sports, quite contrary to Rita Skeeter's often biased accounts. Ginny's job led the two of them to see professional Quidditch games often, and it wasn't long before somebody suggested that he fly again, and see how he liked that.

He'd known, as soon as he'd gotten back onto a broom, that flying was what he wanted to do. So, he'd honed his skills for a year, dropping out of the Auror Academy while he was at it. Ginny whole-heartedly supported his move, having earned enough money to support the two of them from her journalism.

After a few tryouts, Harry entered the 2000 Draft with high hopes, and was drafted to Chudley in the First Round. While happy that he'd been given the chance to go professional, he didn't really want to be with a team that had traditionally ended seasons at the bottom of the standings. Still, he'd done well in the 2000-2001 season with Chudley, and they even made the playoffs that year, losing in the first round to perennial contenders the Ballycastle Bats. They'd been flattened in that match, yet Harry was at least somewhat consoled by the fact that he'd caught the Snitch, if only to save his team from further embarrassment. Still, they'd improved a lot that year.

In fact, when Puddlemere Keeper Oliver Wood was transferred to Chudley in 2001, they had even been given a shot at the title, something that hadn't happened to Chudley in twenty years. The added benefit was that Ron now was crazy about his Chudley Cannons. He'd been an avid fan in his youth, but now he was crazy about them. He tried his best to watch every game live, or at least watched replays, and took every opportunity to ask Harry if he needed anything, _anything_, in order for success. Harry, amused at his friends antics, told him to do an increasing number of ridiculous acts in front of friends, and even began charging fares from people like Neville, before Hermione put her foot down.

Harry had gotten a stern reminder of why Hermione was considered the brightest witch of their age. He still shuddered at that memory at times.

In the 2001-2002 season, Harry and Wood carried the Cannons to the semifinals of the league, the best by Chudley in twenty-three years. They were knocked out by the Bats once more, but it was actually a close match this time. Nothing like the absolute blowout of the year before.

Harry was dubbed by many as the "next rising star," and with his contract running out, many newspaper reporters believed that Harry could be the most valuable player in the league at the moment.

Harry had hired Daphne Greengrass early on as his agent. This was mainly due to two reasons. One, she was an excellent agent who'd secured incredible contracts for top players of the league. Two, she had been the Ice Queen in school, and knew all the tricks involving warding off attention. Harry hired her for that reason. He did NOT need more media attention after Voldemort's defeat at his hands.

Ginny had initially been jealous of Daphne's beauty, her wit, and her abilities. Still, she couldn't deny that she was perhaps the best agent out there, and accepted Harry's decision to take her on board as his agent.

Daphne had negotiated and excellent contract for Harry that had him returning to Chudley. The Cannons' players had been steadily improving since Harry's rookie season, as the presence of the Boy-Who-Lived combined with the fact that they actually managed to start win games caused them all to work harder, and now they were a respectable team. They weren't elite by the league's standards, but they were good enough to make the playoffs consistently.

When Harry was chosen for the Quidditch World Cup as England's starting Seeker, he'd been overjoyed. He'd been given a golden opportunity to showcase his abilities on the World stage. He'd done it, to a certain extent, but it was becoming quite taxing, and Harry felt that a couple more stressful games could very well lead to a terrible season with Chudley when they got back. That would not be good.

The team just wasn't good enough. They'd been thrashed in nearly every single game, and Harry had had to bail them out every time.

Still, he was on the brink of immortal glory. Winning the Quidditch World Cup for England, in the first ever final that they'd made it to, would forever immortalize him in the record books as a Quidditch legend, not as "the-Boy-Who-Lived." Here was a chance to make his mark on history based on his own achievements, instead of something that had happened to him as a toddler.

Harry spent the next few days practicing, and celebrating with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione in their apartment. Their practices were light, and two days before the final, he gathered the team after their last practice before the match.

"Alright. We're the underdog here. Jones, Flitley, and Vosper, just hold them. Hold them to one-fifty. This is the World Cup Finals. You'll probably never get another chance like this again. Leave it all out there in two days. Choudry, Withey, I want you to control those Bludgers for longer than two fucking seconds, alright? Control the defence, and Potter will win us the game. Wood, you do your thing in the posts. Stop as many shots as possible. In two days, you will all be possibly be playing in the biggest match of your careers. Now, take the day off tomorrow, and enjoy it. Enjoy the feeling of being on a team in the Final. Then, go out there on Sunday and kick their butts. Got it?"

The team responded with a chorus of rousing cheers and "yeses", before each headed towards the locker room. Daphne was waiting for him, standing there holding some files in her hand with a Muggle pen stuck behind her ear.

"Hey, Potter." She greeted him as he placed his gloves and broom into his locker, before peeling off his jersey.

"Really, Daphne, after two years, you still can't call me by my first name?" Harry asked. It had been his standard response to Daphne's greetings ever since she'd become his agent.

Daphne snorted.

"Perhaps when you earn it. Anyways, there's a promotional event occurring tomorrow afternoon for the new line of Potter jerseys that they're selling. They want you there to sign some autographs and just meet the kids who'll be buying the jerseys."

Harry groaned. While he certainly enjoyed working with kids on Quidditch, autographs and promotional events were an absolute bore to him.

"Think I can cut this one?" Harry asked, peeling off his jersey and chucking it into the laundry bundle.

Wrinkling her nose, Daphne responded, "No. You've already cut the last two promotional events. You've got to go to this one."

Harry agreed reluctantly to go, and Daphne flashed him one of her famous smiles that were known to have a boy drooling within seconds. Still, Harry had gotten used to it after a couple years with her, but he still winced at the memory of the first time she'd done that to him. He'd look like a real idiot, standing frozen with his mouth open. She'd never acted very flirtatious in school, but it seemed that after school was over, she'd lightened up considerably. It had been one of the factors that had helped her become vastly successful.

She was still single though, which was surprising considering the number of suitors she'd had, but Harry didn't dwell on it too much. He was more concerned about his own life.

Harry watched Daphne leave, before taking a shower and changing into a regular tee-shirt and jeans. Wood waited for him, as they often left together.

"She fancies you, mate. I'm telling you." Oliver said. This had been their longstanding conversation over their agent, Daphne.

"Oliver, I'm married. I don't even care if she fancies me or not. And honestly, I highly doubt that she does." Harry replied tiredly.

"Besides, I know you fancy her. Just go after her."

Wood adopted a hurt look.

"I've tried. She's shot me down over and over again, as you very well know."

Harry smirked at him.

"So much for ladies man Wood, eh?"

Oliver said, "At least I'm not tied down to a girl. I can roam the bars and pubs freely."

Harry laughed. He had no regrets about marrying Ginny. She'd been a loving wife so far, and they'd had a pretty happy relationship together. Harry bade Oliver goodnight at the hotel that they were staying at, and watched Oliver head off to the bar of the hotel. Shaking his head in amusement, he headed upstairs to his room.

He unlocked the door, and entered, finding Ginny waiting for him wearing his favorite pair of blood-red knickers and a matching bra.

He smiled. He was in for a wonderful night.

**oOo**

The next day, Harry woke up to movement. Ginny was trying to squirm through his arms. He held her tightly, but after a little bit, she managed to escape. Groaning at the loss of warmth, he opened his eyes, only to immediately shield them as Ginny opened the curtains to their hotel room.

"Gah! It hurts the eyes. Pull the curtains over, Gin." He said, shielding his eyes with his arms.

Ginny merely laughed, and poked him.

"Time to get up, sleepyhead."

Harry eventually forced himself up, and padded to the bathroom, taking a shower and cleaning up his appearance until he was alright.

As he exited the bathroom, he found Ginny writing what looked like an article for Witch Weekly.

With his wife's management, Harry was now able to read Witch Weekly without shuddering. Although he still wouldn't do it willingly.

Looking up as he entered the room, Ginny said, "Hey, Daphne called earlier. She wanted to let you know that the promotion thing is around five."

"Okay. What will you do in the meantime?" Harry asked.

Ginny shrugged. "I might go into the city to look around for things. I've never been to Seoul. I want to check out what items the Muggles have for sale around here. I might be able to take home a present for Dad as well. Something I know he'd really like."

The rest of the morning was spent in relative harmony as the two just relaxed and enjoyed each other's company. Harry was going through all the Quidditch plays that they'd practiced over the past couple of weeks, despite the fact that he knew most of them were irrelevant considering the ability of the Chasers and Beaters.

It was an old team. England really needed to field some younger talent out there. Still, they'd made the final, and tomorrow would be the biggest match of Harry's career.

Finally, after a lunch provided by room service, and then a quick "nap", Harry got ready for the promotional event. Putting on a jersey, and grabbing his wand and broom, he left Ginny still sleeping under the covers after their rather strenuous afternoon.

After walking out of the hotel's ward line, Harry Apparated to the promotional event, where Daphne was waiting for him.

Daphne quickly informed him of what he was supposed to do. First. a couple laps around the pitch, then talk to the kids, and sign autographs for about an hour or so, before showing off a few cool tricks on the broom, and then answering a last few questions. After that, he'd be free to go.

Harry thanked Daphne, to which she responded, as she always did, by requesting a pay raise jokingly. She then shooed him out on to the field, where he was met by a roar of adulation from the kids and other fans out there who had come to see him.

He flew his laps around the pitch, before setting down in a space reserved for him, where he took up the microphone and talked to the kids about Quidditch. It was mostly trivial things, such as specific diving techniques, and distraction techniques. Afterwards, he headed down into the crowd and began signing autographs. After half an hour had rolled by, his hand was really beginning to hurt.

As he took a pause from signing, wringing his hand a little, to which the nearby spectators laughed and patted his shoulder in sympathy, he cast a look around the pitch, and noticed Daphne talking urgently in low tones to what looked like an Auror. They were both casting glances at him as well, and he could've sworn he saw tears in Daphne's eyes, as well as the grim look on the officer's face.

He knew something was up. Still, he was in the middle of the crowd, and he couldn't do anything. When the time allotted to autographs finally expired, Harry returned to the stage. Daphne and the officer had disappeared. He was still shaken at the tears he was certain he saw in Daphne's eyes. In the years that he'd known Daphne, she'd never cried. Not once. It just didn't happen. What on Earth had the Auror told her?

Although he performed a few neat tricks in the air on his broom, his heart wasn't really in it. He couldn't wait for the promotional signing to be over.

Finally, the announcer of the event closed the event, and Harry, with a last wave at the crowd, left to the locker rooms, where he felt that Daphne would be waiting for him.

Sure enough, she was there, her head in her hands, no longer the epitome of the impeccable Slytherin Ice Queen that she'd upheld for all these years.

Harry sat down quietly.

"What happened?"

Daphne looked up at him.

"Something terrible happened, Harry. I'm so sorry." She whispered, fresh tears forming in her eyes.

Harry felt his breathing become shallow, dreading her next words.

"They found your wife. She was killed in a freak accident while in a Muggle store. I'm so sorry, Harry." Daphne said in the faintest whisper, almost afraid of his reaction.

Harry sat there, dumbfounded. In fact, if Daphne hadn't been there to catch him, he might've fallen backwards onto the floor.

Daphne pulled Harry into a crushing hug, whispering, "I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry was stunned speechless.

'This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.' He kept thinking.

"No." Harry said quietly.

"No. No! NO!" Harry began shouting. Daphne quickly waved her wand, placing wards that prevented sound from leaving the locker room.

"No…" Harry said in a broken whisper, before slumping into Daphne's arms.

Daphne couldn't even bring herself to be happy about Ginny's death. No matter what feelings she'd harbored for Harry, she couldn't bear to see him in pain like this.

All she could feel for Ginny Weasley was sadness and regret, despite their rather strained relationship.

After all, she cared enough about Harry to wish for his happiness above all else.

**oOo**

** I hope this new project is interesting for you all. As always, if you want a reply from me, I suggest PMing.**

** This story does take quite a different path from my original story.**

** Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Serpentine Virtues Chapter 2**

** Thank you for your support thus far. I welcome anybody with advice/suggestions, and suggest that they leave a review or PM me. If anybody wishes to beta for the story, then PM me and we'll talk.**

** One thing that I wanted to clear up about relationships: For those who think that I rushed into the Harry/Daphne, let's just say that it won't happen for a while. Ginny isn't dead because I want Harry/Daphne. She's dead because it's the tragedy that causes this whole story to happen. **

** My muse started singing, and so I wrote the chapter in a day. **

** Enjoy Chapter 2.**

**oOo**

Harry opened his eyes. It was dark in the hotel room. He wondered why he was alone in bed, until he remembered. He remembered everything that had happened.

The night before, Harry had tried to drink his sorrows away. While he still hadn't fully accepted Ginny's death, he'd still gone to the bar because even considering the possibility of Ginny's death was too painful to bear.

Harry had half-expected her to be in the hotel room, smiling, waiting for him, like she always did.

It was not to be, and that was where it really hit Harry.

Ginny was gone. He'd never see her pretty face, make love to her, or go out on anymore dates with her.

The cause of death was so ridiculously ironic that Harry had the strangest urge to laugh. Ginny had been caught in a freak car accident. A drunk driver had lost control of his car and careened into many bystanders. One of them had been Ginny. Harry had wanted to find the man responsible. He'd wanted to kill him, tear him to shreds, until he was informed that the driver had died as well in the accident.

As always with people in this situation, Harry was plagued by survivor's guilt.

What if he had brought Ginny with him to the promotional signing? What if he'd asked Ginny to do something else for the day?

Daphne had been there for him. He was grateful to her. Maybe Oliver was right. Maybe she did fancy him, in some way or another. Still, he pushed that all to the back of his mind.

Harry was quite hungover. He felt awful. There was a nasty taste in his mouth. He had no idea how long he'd slept, and he really didn't care.

He had a match today. He knew that. For some reason, the shine of winning the World Cup was severely diminished. He found that he no longer cared.

He reached over at the nearby table, groaning when dizziness began to set in.

"Here, Harry." A soft female voice said.

Harry gave a start when he realized he wasn't alone. Daphne must've stayed. She was probably the one who got him into his room in the first place.

Harry made a mental note to give her a raise sometime soon.

"Thanks Daphne." Harry said, as Daphne guided his hand to his glasses.

Putting on his glasses, he propped himself up in bed with a struggle.

Daphne looked at him with a tender look in her eyes. She handed him a hangover potion, and he downed the contents, grimacing at the foul taste. Still, it was a small price to pay, as his head immediately began to clear, and the urge to vomit was rapidly diminishing.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, adjusting his glasses as he extricated himself from the blankets.

"It's almost ten." Daphne replied, catching him when he stumbled over his shoes on the way to the bathroom.

"Thanks." Harry muttered, embarrassed that he'd fallen right into her, and that he'd stared into her tender, caring eyes for about two seconds, much longer than he should've.

He headed into the bathroom, locked the door, and stripped off his clothes. He looked in the mirror, and winced at what he saw.

His hair was messier than ever, sticking up, and his eyes were red from crying (yeah he'd done that a lot the night before) and bloodshot from alcohol. There were bags under his eyes. All in all, he looked like a mess. He wasn't even sure if he could play in the match today. Everything in life paled in comparison to what Ginny had meant to him.

Harry took a shower, relishing the hot water. It woke him up, somewhat, and it was soothing. Relaxing. It was what he needed at the moment.

Still, there was a dull ache in his heart.

When he got out of the shower, Daphne was nowhere to be seen. The curtains had been opened, and light flooded into the room.

Harry recalled what he'd said the day before to Ginny about light. It seemed like an eternity ago. He noticed a note on the table.

Picking it up, he read:

_Harry,_

_ I've got a business meeting to get to. I'll be back around twelve. I've ordered room service for breakfast for you. It should be up in a few minutes. The match is at five, so we'll have an hour if you want to…you know…talk. _

_ -D_

He was still expected to play. He was England's sole hope at earning the title at the World Cup. He wished he could just pass on the responsibility to his back-up. He knew that he was in no condition to play, and he really had no wish to get thrashed by the Irish in the Final.

But his team needed him, and he'd never left anybody who needed him, friend or foe.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He answered the door, and found a hotel waiter with a cart that carried breakfast. Harry thanked the man, tipped him some money, and took the plates of food inside.

Harry really had no appetite. Still, he knew that he'd regret it if he didn't eat something. Plus, Daphne had ordered it for him, and he really did appreciate the gesture.

He uncovered the plate filled with eggs, bacon, and other breakfast foods. It was way too much for him, but he ate a decent amount, making sure not to overdo it.

After finishing, he headed down to the hotel's exercise room. He had nowhere to go. However, on his way down, he ran into Oliver. His expression was filled with sorrow and sympathy.

"I'm sorry, mate." He said quietly.

Harry shook his head, forcing down the tears that were threatening to appear again. He'd done enough crying last night.

"It's alright." Harry said, his voice cracking.

Oliver, seeing that Harry wasn't ready to really talk about Ginny, just fell in step with him, not saying a word. Oliver followed Harry to the exercise room and watched as Harry ran a couple miles on the treadmill, before doing a series of exercises to improve his fitness. Oliver knew that his friend was here only because he wanted something to do, not because he actually needed exercise. Harry was one of the fittest members of the team.

After a little while, Oliver himself left, saying that he'd had arrangements for lunch. That reminded Harry about Daphne, and so he went back to his room, took yet another shower, and was just toweling off when Harry heard the knock on the door.

Quickly dressing, Harry made his way to the door, opening it.

Daphne looked him up and down, pleased with what she saw.

"Well, it's nice to see that you're looking better." She said, placing her purse on the counter.

Harry just sat down heavily on his bed, staring at his hands.

"Well, are you ready for the match today?" Daphne asked.

Harry shook his head. He was nowhere close to being ready for the match mentally.

Daphne sat down next to him, and hesitantly cupped his hand in both of hers.

"Look. All of England is looking at you to lead them to the title. I know for a fact that Ginny wanted the Cup just as much as you did. Don't squander this opportunity, Harry." Daphne said gently, trying to help Harry. She knew it was too early for him to come to terms with Ginny's death. Yet, she wanted the best for him, and she knew that he'd regret it forever if he didn't seize this chance and try to win the Cup.

Harry, on the other hand, was filled with pent-up anger. He was angry at what happened to Ginny. He raged against Fate, against the hand that life had dealt him. He'd had a normal life for the first time in his life, and then Ginny was killed in some sort of freak accident.

Unfortunately, there was nobody else he could vent his anger on other than poor Daphne.

"Why do you care so much about the World Cup? Are you just trying to earn more money off me if I win the stupid, damned thing?" Harry snarled. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He regretted it instantly. The look of hurt and pain that crossed Daphne's face just made things worse.

However, before he could do anything, Daphne had fled jumped up and ran out of the room. Before she left, Harry caught a glimpse of the tears in her face.

He was mentally kicking himself. Daphne had been nothing, but kind to him all these years he'd known her. He'd have to make this right.

He grabbed his wand, some money, and Daphne's forgotten purse, before heading out the door.

Now, where would Daphne go?

**oOo**

After two hours of fruitless searching, Harry was helpless. He had no clue where Daphne could possibly be. He'd Flooed Greengrass Manor, where Astoria currently resided, and Harry felt that there was a likely chance Daphne had gone home.

She hadn't. Or at least, Astoria had told him that she wasn't around. And he knew that Astoria rarely lied.

He'd then tried Tracey Davis's house, but Daphne wasn't there.

The one good thing that Harry took out of the calls was that at least she hadn't gone back to England.

Now he was stuck in a dilemma. He wanted to find Daphne and apologize for his actions, but he had to get to the team's training area in ten minutes to board the bus that would take them to the pitch where the Quidditch World Cup Final would be held. He wanted to find Daphne badly.

But, he knew that Daphne would want him to play in the match. Shaking his head, he knew that he would have to go to the stadium.

He arrived, just in time, to change into his uniform, and grabbed his broom, which someone had evidently been kind enough to bring back after he'd left it at the promotional event. His teammates and coach said nothing about his rather hurried arrival. They'd all heard the news, and decided that giving him some space was the best thing possible.

For some reason, he just knew that it had been Daphne who'd done it for him. Which brought pack another pang of regret. He pushed it to the back of his mind. The best way to make it up to Daphne would be to perform his best at the Final.

He followed Wood onto the bus, and they made their way to the stadium. When they arrived, they were greeted by cheers from British supporters and jeers from the Irish. The fact that British-Irish relations weren't the best just added to the tension and hype surrounding the match.

Schooling his features into a mask of indifference, a handy trick that Daphne had taught him a while ago, he followed his teammates off the bus and entered the locker rooms designated for their team. On the way, the coach pulled him aside.

"Potter. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks, Coach." Harry said quietly, wondering where the conversation was going.

"Look, if you think you can't compete, no one on this team, least of all me, would blame you." The coach said sympathetically. The coach himself had gone through a personal tragedy before, and knew that it was not something you'd want weighing on you when playing a professional Quidditch Match. Especially a match as important as the one Harry was about to play.

Harry steeled himself and said, "I'll be alright, Coach. I want to play. Like you said, this isn't something that happens twice to a person. I'll be lucky if I make it to another World Cup Final. Besides, I want to do it for the people, who are counting on me."

The coach looked at him carefully, and then nodded, clasping Harry on the shoulder. He said no more.

Harry spent most of the pre-game time checking that every last twig on his broom was in order. He took a breath, and tried his best to bury every single thought about Ginny, all his worries over Daphne. He couldn't afford to be distracted.

Finally, it was game time. He heard the famed voice of Ludo Bagman, who was announcing the game yet again. He was also joined by former English Seeker Roderick Plumpton, who'd retired after the last World Cup and now cast games with Bagman. Bagman took over most of the commentating

"And, as we extend a warm welcome to the mascots of both England and Ireland, it is now time to introduce the teams. Representing Ireland, it's the group that has won two straight World Cups now. They have dominated international Quidditch, and each has played exceptionally on their respective league teams as well. Despite their age, they have played exceptionally this World Cup. Their impressive trouncing of co-hosts Japan in the semifinals was particularly impressive. It's Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Connolly! Ryan! _A-A-And _Lynch!"

The stadium's Irish supporters exploded into cheers. The leprechauns, their mascots, were dancing. The seven streaks of the Irish flew around the Pitch a few times, before hovering together on their side of the Pitch.

"And, now, representing England, in their first ever World Cup Final appearance, we have… Jones! Flitley! Vosper! Choudry! Withey! Wood! _A-A-And _Potter!"

Harry flew out following the rest of his team.

"And the biggest question of this match will be Harry Potter's performance, Ludo. I myself offer him my most sincere condolences for his loss. I know it's inadequate and all, but I hope that he will be able to perform here for England. Without him, this might just be another trouncing by Ireland." Plumpton said.

"I agree with you, Roderick. Still, although he's rarely mentioned in the face of stars such as Krum and Potter, Aidan Lynch has performed admirably this World Cup as well."

"You're right, of course, Ludo. Four Snitch catches out of five matches, and the only reason that he didn't catch it in the semifinals was because he was pulled off after that monstrous five-hundred point lead Ireland amassed. Evidently, Ireland was looking to rest him, since they knew that no matter who won England-Bulgaria, he'd be facing a superb Seeker."

"Now, ladies and gentleman, please welcome our referee, Chairwitch of the International Quidditch Association, Lydia Arroyo."

The referee flew out onto the pitch, with the ball crate under her arm. When she arrived at the center of the pitch, she took the Quaffle out, and released the rest of the balls. Two Bludgers and a Snitch flew out of the box, with the Snitch quickly disappearing with a glint of gold despite Harry and Lynch's best efforts at following it.

"There's the toss, and the game begins! Ladies and gentlemen, the final of the 2002 Quidditch World Cup is under way. It's Troy, Mullet, back to Troy, Moran, nicely placed Bludger right there by Choudry, breaks up that formation, but Ireland retains the Quaffle and now Quigley and Connolly have control of both the Bludgers. They send a ferocious attack at Keeper Wood, who just barely avoids the Bludgers. He leaves the goal wide open, however, and Troy passes to Mullet, who escapes Jones and takes the shot! Kick save by Wood, who managed to fly back into position, but Moran rebounds the ball and shoots at the open lower-left hoop. Ten-Zero Ireland!"

The stadium burst into cheers from the Irish side combined with boos from the English supporters.

Harry was in his element. Staring down at the pitch from above, this was where he'd always liked to be when searching for the Snitch. Still, the smallest things kept reminding him of Ginny, and it was throwing him off. He very narrowly avoided a ferocious Bludger aimed at his head by Connolly, and was physically rattled.

His eyes darted around the field, and landed on the Top Box. With another pang in his heart, he realized that had Ginny been there, she'd be sitting in the Top Box, watching and cheering him on, while writing another article for the Prophet. He shook his head, trying to push down these thoughts. He needed to focus.

Lynch just seemed content to tail him at the moment, and Harry wasn't really in the mood to pull off some fancy flying to try and confuse him. Besides, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get Lynch to take his bait anyways.

The game continued, and to Harry's pleasant surprise, England's Chasers were putting up the fight of their life. Despite Ireland's clearly superior Chaser line, the English Chasers were hanging tough, and the score, 110-50, was a lot closer than Harry had expected.

Still, England's Chasers couldn't keep up the level of play forever, and Harry was still frantically searching the pitch for the Snitch.

Meanwhile, Bagman continued to commentate,

"Jones has the Quaffle. Jones to Flitney, to Vosper, back to Flitney. An excellent use of the Hawkshead Attacking Formation. Jones looks to shoot, drawing back her arm, and oh! What a great fake by Jones, drawing her arm back and then just dropping the ball for the speeding Vosper right below her to hurl it into the right hoop. The score is one-hundred and eighty to ninety, folks, and I must say, England's Chasers are creating a lot of time for their Seeker. The question is, can he beat both the clock and Lynch in order to bring home the Cup for England?"

Plumpton remarked, "I hate to say it, Ludo, but Potter isn't looking like his usual stellar form. It was definitely a questionable choice by Coach Bern to start Potter despite the personal tragedy that's got to be messing with his head right now."

Ludo, meanwhile, was documenting yet another Irish drive that resulted in a goal.

"Potter!" Wood shouted, his face red with exertion.

Harry turned, and looked at him.

"Go find the damn Snitch. You're looking like an amateur up there! That's not what she would've wanted!" he yelled.

Harry shook himself angrily. His friend was right.

He took off, flying around the outside of the pitch, squinting, trying to find a glimpse of gold.

After another half-hour, the scoreline was 220-110. Time was running out for England, and both Jones and Flitney looked exhausted.

Suddenly, Harry caught sight of a glint of gold. He took off, looking to make sure that it wasn't a speck of light glancing off a spectator's gold watch or something. It wasn't. The golden speck was growing larger by the second, and Lynch was right next to him, jostling him for position.

The Snitch was literally skimming the grass, and it didn't look like it was flying up anytime soon. Harry gritted his teeth. If he were to catch the damn thing, he'd need superb control to be able to pull out of the dive so that he wouldn't be flattened on the ground of the pitch. He heard the roar of the crowd as they witnessed the two Seekers' dive, heard Bagman shouting something in his microphone, but Harry tuned it all out. His eyes were fixed, furiously, on the Snitch, and he ignored whatever Lynch was trying to do to harass him.

That was one thing Harry had learned about Lynch when playing against the Seeker in league Quidditch. He preferred harassment to actually focusing on the Snitch, and would usually beat back an opponent, before catching the Snitch. It wasn't illegal, but it was playing dirty.

And Harry never liked players who played dirty.

The Snitch was hovering now, and both Harry and Lynch were getting quite close. Lynch had given up on trying to knock into Harry, and he'd just stretched out his arm. Harry had followed suit, and each Seeker was urging their brooms to greater efforts.

The Snitch grew larger in his eyes. He could see it clearly. And as his fingers were about to close around the struggling golden ball, which at the last second had attempted an escape, he let a smile cross his lips. Ginny would be proud.

Then, two hard and heavy metal balls slammed into him, one in the back of the head and one in his left shoulder, and he knew no more.

**oOo**

Daphne Greengrass had hidden in her hotel room. She'd never told Harry which hotel she was staying at, and now she was grateful for it. She knew that Harry didn't mean what he'd said, but it still hurt her immensely to hear him say those words.

She'd probably hide out here. Watch the match alone. She buried her head in her arms. She'd been jealous of Ginny Weasley for over a year now. Now she was gone, but she couldn't bring herself to attempt any sort of romantic relationship with Harry. He was still hurting, and Daphne felt bad about trying to make him play in the match.

He needed time to heal, and she shouldn't have pushed him. She just wanted the best for him, and she wanted to make sure that he never regretted squandering this opportunity.

She flicked on the Muggle television. There was a time, back when she'd been a proper Pureblood witch like her family had taught her to be, when something like that would have been amazing to her. Then again, she'd have probably regarded it with disgust because it had been made by the "stupid animals that pollute our society." Now she was used to it, even if she still lived in an old-fashioned pureblood home.

At least the television had Wizarding channels considering this was a Wizarding hotel. Evidently, Wizarding South Korea was much more advanced than Wizarding Britain. It was a shame that Britain was still so Euro-centric that they couldn't even figure out the fact that Asian countries such as Japan and South Korea, and even the United States, had long since surpassed them.

She turned on the match just as the introductions began, and got quite a surprise when Harry's name was announced.

So he had listened to her after all. She smiled, wiping away the last vestiges of her tears. Now there was a chance that Harry could fulfill his dreams. It wouldn't even be close to filling the hole in his heart, but hopefully it would provide some joy in an otherwise horrible tournament for him.

She was nervous all throughout the match. The Chasers looked like they'd been revitalized by something or someone before the match, because they were playing the match of their lives. They were able to keep the Irish team in check for more than an hour, a feat that nobody except Bulgaria had accomplished in the past eight years.

As she watched Harry, she could tell that he was suffering. His eyes were dull, and he didn't seem to be have the lightning-quick reflexes that he used to. When the announcers started suggesting pulling Harry from the game, she clenched her fists, gripping the sheets covering the hotel bed tightly. Harry would be devastated if that happened.

She didn't catch Oliver's little conversation with Harry, but she did see Harry suddenly fly into action. He'd seen the Snitch! Her heart leapt into her throat as she watched Harry dive towards the ground, Lynch right next to him, the two of them jostling for position. She saw Harry stretch out his arm, and was certain that he had it. Just then, she saw the two Irish Beaters, Quigley and Connolly, send both Bludgers right at Harry with powerful swings of their bats.

She shouted a warning, but Harry, obviously, couldn't hear her. The two iron menaces slammed into Harry, and Daphne emitted an involuntary cry. She watched him slump, motionless, to the ground, just as the camera zoomed in on his hand.

He'd done it!

He'd caught the Snitch. Almost immediately afterwards, Medi-Witches swarmed him, and he was lost from view. It didn't look good.

Even the supporters of England, who should've been jubilant at the victory, toned down their celebrations, and most were worried about their star Seeker. Before he was lost from view, there had been a sizeable amount of blood on the ground.

Daphne jumped up from her bed. Harry's injury could have been a career-ending injury. If that happened…she wouldn't have a reason to see him anymore. She wouldn't be representing him as his agent, simply because he wouldn't be playing anymore.

She needed to get down to the pitch as soon as possible… He had to be alright. He just had to be…

**oOo**

** Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Serpentine Virtues Chapter 3**

** This chapter is really sh**** in my opinion. I rewrote it like three times, and I'm still unhappy with it. It was partially the reason why it took as long as it did. Also, I ran into a bit of writer's block in the middle of the chapter…**

** I'll be going on vacation on Monday. We'll see if I can get a chapter out before then. I won't be back until the 28****th****, but I should be able to start writing around the 12****th****. Hopefully I can get a chapter out during that time…**

**Enjoy Chapter 3.**

**oOo**

Harry felt as if he was traveling through a long tunnel. A really long tunnel. He was slowly, painfully slowly, heading towards the light that he could see at the end. As he got closer, he heard noises surrounding him. He also felt a slight pressure on his head, almost as if something was lying on his head.

They were faint at first, but grew louder. He thought he heard a familiar voice.

"Ginny?" he groaned quietly, still not entirely conscious. The weight on his chest disappeared immediately.

A soft, warm, feminine hand covered his own.

"It's not Ginny, Harry. But it's OK. You're safe now." He heard a voice say. He vaguely registered that the voice was familiar. Was that Daphne? Wasn't she hiding from him for what he'd said?

As his surroundings slowly materialized, he squinted and caught sight of a blurry, blonde-haired woman staring back at him, while other figures bustled around him. He didn't know where his glasses were, and his head and arm hurt like hell.

"Daphne? Is that you?" he said weakly, trying to get up, only to be defeated when excruciating pain lanced through his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and tried his best not to make a sound. He couldn't quite manage it, and some weird sort of strangled groan forced its way past his lips.

"Yes, it's me, Harry. Calm down. Don't move, you're severely injured. The Healers are going to run a full extensive test on you."

"Daphne, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said." Harry apologized weakly, wanting to clear the air between them.

Daphne patted his hand gently.

"It's alright, Harry. You were just upset. I'm glad you decided to play in the game."

"Thanks for pushing me towards playing. Did we win?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering the end of the game, and what had happened, or rather, what Harry hadn't seen happen.

"We did, or rather, you did! That was a brilliant catch. The final score was 260-230, England. You should've seen the celebrations going on in the streets." Daphne said, smiling despite her worry about Harry's health.

Just then a nurse came over, and said, "Mr. Potter, we need to do a full body scan to make sure that we've found all the injuries you've received."

"I'll be waiting here, Harry." Daphne said reassuringly. She gave his hand a squeeze then moved back, and allowed Harry to be rolled inside to the medical examination area that was marked as "Patients and Personnel only."

Harry felt himself be rolled inside, and asked the nurse who was pushing his gurney where his glasses were. The nurse waved her wand and Summoned them for him. After finally putting his glasses on, he could see clearly, and immediately wished that he hadn't gotten his glasses. His arm looked like a mangled mess of bone and flesh. Evidently, Connolly and Quigley had doubled up on the Bludgers, and they'd hit the Bludgers at the same time. There was no other way for the Bludger to wreck his arm like it had done.

Inside the examination room, a couple of experienced Healers awaited him. They carefully removed any clothing that still covered his ruined arm, before performing a series of complicated wand movements over his arm. Harry felt rather uncomfortable as the Healers worked on him, not sure what they were doing, but kept quiet about it.

Finally, the Healers lowered their wands, and began speaking quietly amongst each other. Harry, not sure what exactly they were talking about, strained his ears, but could only catch snippets of conversation. He made out a couple of words, like "lose", and "career", which filled him with uneasiness, but in the end, he'd have to wait for the Healer's verdict.

Finally, the Healers seemed to have come to a decision, and the leader came over to Harry's gurney.

"Mr. Potter. I'm afraid that I have bad news for you." He said grimly.

Harry waited, fearing the worst. Were they about to amputate his limb or something?

"Mr. Potter, we believe that you have suffered multiple compound fractures in your arm, and that it will be an incredibly difficult injury to heal. The healing process, if successful, will take three months, in which you will be here in our care. I should warn you, the healing process has a high likelihood of failure, and if it does fail, I'm afraid that you will lose the arm."

Harry winced at the thought.

"Will I lose the arm if I don't undergo the healing process?"

"Most definitely." The Healer replied.

"Does this mean that Quidditch is out for the next three months?" was Harry's next question.

"Ahh… Mr. Potter. That's the second thing that I wanted to talk to you about. Your arm has suffered an incredibly debilitating and damaging injury. While you will be able to perform simple tasks with your arm after we reconstruct it, it is unadvisable that you play Quidditch again with that arm. It is quite fragile, and it would not stand the stress of a professional game. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but it appears as if your professional career is over."

Harry, who'd rose up a little despite the pain in protest during the Healer's little speech, sank back onto the cushions in defeat when he heard the Healer's last words.

"So I can no longer play for any team?"

"You cannot play for any professional team, yes. I'm truly sorry." The Head Healer said bowing slightly, before turning and walking out of the room. Harry watched him go, and then, the full implications of what the Healer had just said weighed him down.

His career was done. He was twenty-two, and he'd be retiring from professional Quidditch. It was also severing yet another line connecting him to Ginny. He was reeling from two quick punches to the gut emotionally.

What would he do now? He was all alone, with Ginny gone. Ron and Hermione had their own life to attend to. He was sure that they'd do their best to help, and probably would invite him over often, but it just wasn't the same. Besides, Ron was devastated over Ginny. Harry didn't want to bring his friends more troubles by moping over his injuries and losses at their house.

He was rolled out again after the Healers were ready to transfer him to a medical ward, and Daphne was waiting outside. She'd already heard the news, and was urgently waiting for him to come out. She set aside her own feelings for him, and how his injury could threaten their relationship, and put Harry first, just like she'd always done.

She followed the gurney to Harry's new ward, where he'd be staying for the next three months. It was a pleasant enough room, with enough light and space for a good number of visitors.

Once the Healers left, and they were alone, Daphne sank into a nearby chair, and said, "I'm so sorry Harry. I know how much you cared about Quidditch…"

Harry grimaced.

"It's alright. Thanks for everything Daphne. And I really am sorry about what I said. I was out of line, and I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you."

Daphne waved off his apologies.

Harry, meanwhile, took in his surroundings, and sighed. "What am I going to do for the next few months."

"Well, I'll visit every week. And I'm sure that Ron and Hermione will visit as well."

Daphne was on quite good terms with most of Harry's friends, despite a rather frosty start with Ron. Ron had been suspicious of Daphne for a long time simply because she had been in Slytherin, but after observing her interactions with Harry and Ginny, Ron had gotten over his rather petty prejudices.

Harry shrugged. He seemed like a shadow of his former self, and Daphne was quite worried about him.

"Harry, are you…OK?" she asked hesitantly, not sure exactly how to tell Harry what she meant.

Harry looked up and smiled, but Daphne, having known Harry for a long time now, could see that it was fake.

"I'm alright Daphne. I just… need some time to think about everything. And… I want to attend the funeral for Ginny." He said.

Daphne nodded with understanding. She wouldn't push him. He'd tell her everything he wanted to.

"Well, I have to go, Harry. I've got to get back to the office. I'll come back later, alright?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Later?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's only ten in the morning."

"Ten—" Harry choked. He'd been knocked out for a whole night?

Daphne, seeing the curious look on Harry's face, told him, "You were injured so badly that the healers were worried about you. They stunned you whenever you were about to wake up to prevent you from hurting yourself until they got you transferred to a proper magical hospital. Harry, it was so scary. You were covered in blood, and yet the Healers refused to move you from the Pitch because it was too dangerous."

Harry raised a hand and gingerly touched the bandage on the back of his head.

"You stayed up all night, didn't you, Daphne?"

Daphne blushed. She'd been hoping that he wouldn't notice.

"I had to make sure you were okay. Besides, you made for a pretty good pillow." She said, turning away to hide her rapidly reddening face.

"Thanks, Daph. It's more than what I deserved after what I said."

Daphne smiled. She usually hated people shortening her name, but Harry was the exception. She let him call her any nickname he could come up with, and Harry used that privilege quite often. Daphne, to her surprise, rather liked it as well.

Still, staying up to look after Harry was not without its toll. She was quite tired, and she had a meeting with one of her lesser clients today. The particular player was also quite bitchy, and could be incredibly annoying.

With a last goodbye, she left through the doors, and was on her way out of the hospital, when she realized that she didn't have her purse. She remembered leaving it in Harry's hotel. Shit Shit Shit. She hoped that he'd kept the key to his room.

She ran back through the hospital, and arrived panting in Harry's room, only to find her purse sitting on the table by his bed. Harry had a cheeky grin on his face.

"How…?" was Daphne's only reaction.

Harry told her about how he'd gone looking for her before the match, both to apologize and give her the purse. After he couldn't find her, he took it with him to the Quidditch Match, and then after he was injured, it was brought to the hospital with the rest of his belongings, mere minutes after Daphne had left.

If he hadn't been dreadfully injured, Daphne would have hugged him. She grabbed her purse and took off for the exit to the hospital. She was going to be late for the meeting. She sighed, and resigned herself to the annoying recriminations that she was sure to receive from her client.

**oOo**

(_3 months later_)

The Healers told him that the healing process had gone well. He'd been transferred to St. Mungo's from the South Korean Hospital about a month now, and his arm felt like…well an arm again.

He stared at his arm. There were no blemishes, no scars, no indications that three months ago, that arm had look like a mangled wreck. Magic really did wonders for a person's health.

Still, despite his physical healing, mentally, he was still broken.

Three months alone had just increased the keen feeling of loss that he felt for Ginny. The funeral had provided closure, but Harry still felt the loss deeply. Especially in little things. He'd read an article in the newspaper, and begin a remark to Ginny about how she could've written it better or how inaccurate and unreliable the sources were. Then, reality would catch up to him, and he'd remember that she was gone.

Daphne had been there for him. Her presence, along with Ron and Hermione, had kept him from sinking into a deep depression. Still, he had no future. He couldn't play Quidditch anymore. So what could he do?

Ron had offered to get him a place in the Auror Academy again. He'd even be able to bypass most training, considering that he'd been through it all before, and he was the Boy-Who-Lived.

But Harry felt like that'd be the equivalent of using his name to advance himself in society. He also didn't want to chase after Dark Wizards anymore either. He'd seen enough fighting during the War against Voldemort. While he wasn't afraid of fighting Dark Wizards, he just wanted to get away from all the death and destruction that came with the job. He didn't want to form anymore close bonds with fellow Aurors and then have them killed. He wasn't sure if he could live with the grief.

He was tired, so incredibly weary with life. He was sluggish moving about, and he wasn't really feeling like himself.

He could tell that Daphne was worried for him. Honestly, in the last few months, Harry had been really touched by Daphne's concern. She'd been there through his ups and downs. Still, her visits were becoming fewer and she spent less and less time with him. He couldn't blame her. The Quidditch season had begun again, and she'd been busy negotiating contracts, setting up schedules, and organizing promotional events for the players.

Still, today was the day that the hospital was planning on releasing him from the hospital. He was still quite unsteady on his feet, but he could walk now.

The previous week, the Healers had finally allowed him out of bed, as they'd deemed his head injury to be fully healed. They hadn't wanted him moving before then in case he somehow injured his head even more. When he'd tried to get up and walk, he stumbled, and would've fallen flat on his face if Ron and Hermione, who'd been there at the time, hadn't caught him.

His muscles, while they hadn't atrophied, were still quite weak, and he'd spent the past week slowly walking up and down the hall. It was tough, but now he could walk pretty far, albeit slowly and unsteadily.

After he was finally cleared by the medical staff, he took all his belongings, which had been there since they were brought to him from South Korea, and left for Grimmauld Place.

After landing rather awkwardly from Apparition, he entered the house. Kreacher had really done a fantastic job renovating the place. It looked happier than he'd ever seen it, and most of the gruesome things had been cleared out.

Speaking of Kreacher, the old house elf appeared with a crack.

"Master is home. Will Master be needing anything from Kreacher?"

Harry smiled at the old elf. It was hard to equate the now loyal polite elf to the same elf that'd betrayed Sirius.

"No, thank you, Kreacher. You've done a good job renovating the house as well."

Kreacher bowed low, taking Harry's luggage.

With a crack, he disappeared, presumably to place Harry's things to his room.

Harry sat down heavily on his couch. Now what was he going to do?

Kreacher popped back into the room and asked him what he wanted for lunch. Harry considered it, and then thanked the elf, saying that he'd be heading out for food. Kreacher bowed, and then disappeared.

Harry headed upstairs to his room, unpacking all his luggage that he'd brought to the fateful World Cup.

He was happy that he'd won the Cup for England. In fact, during the early days in the hospital in South Korea, fans had visited him, and offered their congratulations and condolences. It was nice to have some company, to have something to do, people to talk to, even though their constant attention sometimes annoyed him.

But in the end, he couldn't help but look back at the World Cup with a lot of regrets. His wife had died in a freak accident, and now he was left with no one. He'd received a letter a week ago from the Weasleys inviting him over to the Burrow whenever he was released, but Harry didn't really want to go. Not now. Not when Ginny was still fresh on everyone's minds.

He'd also injured himself, and now was left without a career. Sure, he wasn't a pauper, and he fully expected to be able to provide for himself for the rest of his life, but he wasn't _doing_ anything.

His stomach grumbled, so Harry stopped unpacking, leaving a rather untidy mess behind, grabbing his wand and some Muggle money before heading out. He didn't want to eat in the Wizarding World, as he really didn't want to deal with all the questions about his injuries.

Eventually, he found a quaint little Muggle restaurant, and ate a quick lunch. Deciding not to return to Grimmauld Place just yet, he took a stroll around central London, with no real destination in mind. He just walked around the city, lost in thought. He knew that Ginny would be disappointed in him moping around.

Still, he was not ready to let her go. Not yet.

Deciding he'd had enough of walking, he returned home, and there he found an owl waiting for him. It was Pigwidgeon, and he was fluttering about near the ceiling of the living room, when Harry called him down.

Untying the letter from the owl's leg, he gave Pigwidgeon a couple owl treats that he had. Although he no longer had a personal owl, he received quite a lot of letters, and so he kept the treats for the owls that generally visited. The owls mostly brought fan mail, but he'd set the wards on Grimmauld Place to reject those owls.

Opening the letter, he found Hermione's tidy script.

_Dear Harry,_

_ I hope you are feeling better now. You're finally getting out of St. Mungos! You have to come visit us sometime, perhaps next Friday for dinner? Anyways, I know that you're having some trouble trying to figure out what you want to do. I also know that you still love Quidditch. Well, recently, I heard from Professor McGonagall that Madam Hooch is retiring from teaching Quidditch at the school. I thought maybe you'd want to visit Professor McGonagall and apply for a position as training instructor. Let me know if you do, or you could write back to Professor McGonagall directly if you want._

_ Remember, next Friday you WILL be coming for dinner. I don't want to hear any of your excuses._

_ With love,_

_ Hermione_

Harry considered the opportunity. Really, he was touched that Hermione had gone to such lengths to secure a job for him. The idea itself was appealing. He'd be able to play Quidditch, somewhat, and he'd also work with kids, something that he enjoyed immensely. In fact that was one of his main regrets with Ginny, which was no children.

He shook off that thought. He kept thinking of Ginny and it was depressing him. He loved Ginny, but now, three months later, it was time to move on. He would always carry a place for her in his heart, but he needed to come to terms with the tragedy.

He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, unscrewed the lid off an inkwell. Dipping his quill in, he held it over the parchment, thinking about what he wanted to write.

_Dear Hermione,_

_ I'm feeling better now. My arm no longer aches, and it is a relief to be out of the hospital. Thank you for trying to find a job for me. I really appreciate it. I'll talk to Professor McGonagall as soon as possible. Thank you for telling me about the job opportunity. _

Harry paused. He didn't really want to go to dinner, but he didn't want to hurt Hermione's feelings. Besides, he did enjoy her cooking, and Ron and Hermione would provide some company. He just hoped that Ginny wouldn't come up in the conversation. Although, talking about Quidditch was still a pretty effective way of turning Ron's attention away from anything else. It was Hermione that he was worried about. The last few times that Hermione had visited him in the hospital, she'd looked at him with a mixture of pity and sadness, and it really hadn't helped his mood.

_I'll come to dinner. Don't worry. I could really use the company anyways. Give Ron my best and tell him that I'm sorry I can no longer play for Chudley._

_ Harry_

Satisfied with the letter, he called down Pigwidgeon with some difficulty, and attached the letter to the hyperactive owl's leg. It seemed that the owl just had so much excess energy, no matter how old he got.

After watching Pigwidgeon fly out the window, he turned his attention to the potential job opportunity at Hogwarts. Hogwarts was, still to this day, the one place he considered home. It was quite an attractive offer. Grabbing another piece of parchment, he dipped his quill into the inkwell again as he contemplated what he would write.

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_ Hello Professor. As you probably know, I was injured at the World Cup Final, and now I can no longer play Quidditch professionally. I know that Hermione approached you recently about the possibility of me applying for the open Quidditch instructor position. Let me say that I would be incredibly honored if you would give me this opportunity to teach at Hogwarts. If you do allow your _favorite_ student back to Hogwarts to teach, he'd be most grateful. _

_ Sincerely,_

_ Harry Potter_

He read the letter again, feeling that it was too blunt, but he knew Professor McGonagall. She liked blunt and straight to the point people.

He called Kreacher and asked him to mail the letter, before heading upstairs. He still had a mess of things to unpack and put away.

**oOo**

A month later, during the Christmas holidays, Harry found himself at the gates of Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had written back enthusiastically about the opportunity to have a former professional Quidditch player who'd played on the biggest stage in International Quidditch teaching kids how to play.

At the entrance, he was greeted by Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, the two most senior professors at the school. It was quite a happy reunion, and Harry was smiling for the first time in about three months.

Later, he was introduced to the rest of the Professors. Neville he obviously knew about, having taken over the spot of Herbology teacher after Professor Sprout retired. He also knew most of his old teachers, including Hagrid, who was reinstated as Care of Magical Creatures Professor after the war, Professor Sinistra, who still looked just as exotically beautiful as she'd done back when Harry was at Hogwarts, and Professor Slughorn, who looked quite a ways slimmer than he'd been back before the war. Evidently, the war had taken a toll on him. Still, he was quite genial as always, and praised Harry for being "the best potion master of his time", to which Harry blushed red around his ears, knowing the real reason behind his supposed "brilliance."

Still, there was a slew new professors, with Professor Narcissa Malfoy, who'd been hired a couple years ago, as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. She'd been cleared by the Ministry a couple years ago, especially since Harry privately vouched for her after the incident in the forest, and was considered an expert in the Dark Arts, hence why she was hired. Professor Vector and Babbling were still teaching Arithmancy and Ancient Runes respectively, but Harry had never talked to the two, so now introductions were made. Professor Vanessa Burbage, the younger sister to the original Muggle Studies teacher, Charity Burbage, was the Muggle Studies teacher.

Harry nodded and smiled, greeting his older professors with slightly more enthusiasm and familiarity.

Last of all was, of course, Neville. Neville came and gave him a big hug.

"Fancy seeing you here, mate, and as a teacher too!" he said.

The banter went back and forth between them, until Professor McGonagall coughed politely, and their reminiscing stopped.

The stately Headmistress informed Harry of his duties as Quidditch teacher, and reminded him that this was a trial, and that he hadn't secured the job yet. Harry just smirked knowingly at her, until McGonagall looked away. She then asked Neville to show Harry to his quarters, and the two friends set off through the old castle.

Neville was tactful, avoiding any conversation about Ginny, knowing that Harry was still hurting about it. Instead, they talked about Quidditch, and Neville told Harry that Gryffindor had never been the same since he'd left. They had come in third three times, second once, and were bottom of the table so far this year in the Inter-House Quidditch Competition.

Harry smiled.

"It looks like I'll be giving the Gryffindor Captain some tips." He said.

Neville grimaced.

"I wouldn't. He's a prat and an arsehole."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Really? How did he become Captain then?"

Neville shrugged.

"He was the only good player, and he knows Quidditch strategies well. McGonagall had no choice."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, as Neville stopped at a door in the teachers' quarters.

"Here's your room."

The room was bare except for some basic furniture, but it was clean and warm.

"Thanks, mate." Harry said, seeing that the elves had already brought his belongings up here.

Neville looked around for a bit, and then said, "I gotta go. There's some bubotubers that are ready for squeezing."

Harry shook his head. He still had bad memories of bubotuber pus.

As Neville left, he looked around the room. It was a nice room, and he was back home. Perhaps it was the start of a new life.

Still, not everything was perfect. Ron and Hermione were both in London, and he wouldn't be able to see them as regularly anymore.

Daphne was also out of his reach. She wasn't that busy in the winter, but now that he was here, he couldn't see her that often anymore. He found himself missing her, more than he'd expected.

Sighing, Harry began to, once again, unpack his belongings.

**oOo**

** Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Serpentine Virtues Chapter 4**

** So, I sat down today, and spent like four hours writing this for you all as a sort-of "I'm leaving for a few weeks" present. I hope you guys enjoy, and continue to support the story after I get back!**

**EDIT: (8/3/2014 9:22 EST) I f***** up big time. Sorry. To those of you who have already read the chapter, the plot hole has been fixed. To those who have yet to read it, don't worry about it.**

** Enjoy Chapter 4.**

**oOo**

Daphne Greengrass was sitting in yet another hellish, boring meeting at her agency firm. Recently, the firm had been losing income, and Daphne knew that she'd probably be the one taking the full brunt of the blame…and perhaps the axe as well, considering the fact that she'd been the agent representing their most valuable client, Harry Potter. It didn't matter that his injury was not even remotely her fault, nor did the fact that she was one of the highest earning agents at the firm. These meetings were supposed to be meetings for various agents to help each other "improve" their negotiation skills.

In reality, it was just a cover up for the bosses to discuss who to fire.

Daphne didn't care. She'd earned enough money by now, representing various clients, that she could start her own firm should she be fired. In fact, she was considering quitting and creating her own firm regardless.

Thus, Daphne really didn't pay attention. The owner of the firm was currently shouting at some of the newer agents who'd been there for less than a year. Evidently, he was using the fact that the firm's earnings were going down as an excuse to cut their paychecks.

Daphne curled her lip. She couldn't understand how such an arsehole ever made enough money to head his own firm. The first thing she'd learned after becoming an agent was that you had to be nice and polite, or else you didn't survive long in the business. That was the reason she'd had to put in a lot of work to shed the Ice Queen hostility mask that she'd worn during school to protect her from the unwanted advances of boys.

Thinking of boys led her to thinking of Harry. She'd tried to be there for him. She'd tried to show him how much she cared, but now he'd left for Hogwarts. Sometimes, she thought 'Good riddance.' Harry hadn't been a very pleasant person after Ginny's death. He'd been quite bitter, and was no longer the same person that she'd fallen in love with. But she knew her attempts to forget him were just attempts to deceive herself. She was still hung up on him. She'd never been dependent on a man before, but then Harry Potter was no ordinary man. He'd entered her life with his recklessness, his incredibly flying abilities, his kindness, and his emerald eyes that always made Daphne swoon whenever she stared into them. She hated her weakness sometimes, but at other times, she craved those feelings that she felt with Harry.

Now he'd left her life, and was living at Hogwarts, miles away from her.

She couldn't fault him for that. He was trying to keep his dream alive, after all. Daphne also knew that Hogwarts held some sort of special meaning to him. She wasn't one hundred percent sure what it was, as Harry was rather reticent about his relatives, but Daphne guessed that there was something there that she didn't know.

"Greengrass! You hearing what I'm saying? Huh?"

Daphne gritted her teeth, and faced her boss. "No, sir. What did you say?"

Her boss, the world-class arsehole Cormac McLaggen, turned red, and started shouting at her about paying attention, and that it was somehow her fault for Potter's departure from their agency. He also stated that Daphne wasn't committed to the company, and that she was spending a lot less time at the firm nowadays working. That part was true…because of Harry.

Daphne, whose temper was already on edge, was brought just a little bit closer to the explosion point.

McLaggen had absolutely no skills as an agent. He was only the head of the firm as of the moment because his father, who was the original head, had taken a two-year sabbatical to visit Transylvania. His father had been a competent leader, but his son was just awful. The firm was suffering for it, and McLaggen was likely looking for scapegoats to pin the blame on.

The fact that Cormac also liked to hit on her was not helping his position in her eyes.

Finally, when Daphne had had enough of his shouting, she drew her wand and stared him down, employing her famous Ice Queen stare that she hadn't used for years.

"Shut up. Shut up for Merlin's sake." She said icily.

Cormac spluttered at the rudeness, and that began to shout, "You dare insult your superior? I should fire-"

He never got past that, falling to the floor in pain at the nasty severing hex Daphne had aimed at his groin. Daphne had, at the last instant, twitched her wand slightly upwards so as to not deprive the boy of having children in the future. After all, she didn't want the incident to really turn serious. Right now, if Cormac pressed charges for her spell, she could claim harassment and be acquitted because she had both witnesses and an excellent standing in society to back her up. On the other hand, if she'd castrated him, it'd be much more serious.

Daphne stood up, looking without pity at McLaggen's writhing form.

"I quit, McLaggen. Goodbye." She spat on his form, which was still twisting from side to side in pain.

She left after grabbing everything she needed, packing them into conjured boxes with a wave of her wand. Shrinking the boxes, she placed them in her purse, and left the building to McLaggen's shouts of "This isn't over!" and "I'll get you for this, Greengrass!"

On the way out, Blaise Zabini fell in step with her. Blaise had been from Slytherin like her, and he'd followed nearly the same path that she had, and eventually they ended up at the same firm. They had developed a tentative friendship, but Daphne made sure to keep her distance. Blaise, quite clearly, had his eyes set on her, and spent his free time trying to devise new strategies to "catch" her. She tolerated him mostly because his advances weren't annoying like most people's, and because her best friend Tracey was good friends with the Italian boy.

"You really leaving, Daph?" he asked curiously.

"First, what have I told you about shortening by name? Second, yes I am."

Blaise mock-pouted. "But you let Potter shorten your name!"

Daphne glared at him. "Did you come out here to tease me about Potter for about the thousandth time?"

"Well that, but I also want to know what you're going to be doing."

"I have enough money to start my own firm. I'll keep most of my clients; they're happy with my performance. Besides, it isn't like I'm poor so even if that fails, I have other pursuits I can go after."

Blaise lowered his voice and said, "Say, if I wanted to leave the company as well, would you mind letting me be part of your firm?"

Daphne shrugged. "As long as you do well, I see no reason why you shouldn't. Why? Can't take more of that screaming arsehole in there?"

Blaise nodded. Nearly everybody was nearing the end of their patience with their boss. It was only a matter of time before the majority quit. In fact, Blaise expected that everybody that had any sort of opportunity elsewhere would opt out of working for the company before McLaggen's father came back. It was a shame, especially considering the fact that it had been a prosperous firm before McLaggen took it over.

They walked the rest of the way to the exit in silence, where Daphne bid Blaise goodbye, and told him that after she set up her own firm, she'd write him a letter and he could become partners with her if he wanted.

Daphne Apparated to her apartment, setting down her purse, grabbing the shrunken boxes, and returning them to their previous size. She sorted through the boxes, before leaving them in a corner of her apartment. She'd take them to whatever place she chose as her office headquarters.

She looked around the apartment. There wasn't much to do. She wondered what Tracey was doing at the moment.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Tracey had decided to pursue a career in Healing. She had also tried to convince Daphne to join her, but Daphne had turned her down. Daphne knew she'd be terrible in the medical field. She just didn't have the instinctual understanding of healing spells and potions that Tracey had, and would take a few more minutes to cure patients of certain diseases. And in the medical field, a few minutes could be the difference between life and death.

Tracey was currently studying in one of Muggle Britain's finest medical schools, but Daphne had no clue what her class schedule was. She knew that she lived in a magical apartment off campus that had a Floo address, so Daphne decided to call her friend.

Daphne didn't know Tracey's full schedule, and since she had nothing else to do, she decided to make the Floo call. She hadn't talked to her friend in a while, what with being worried about Harry, and her rather busy job.

As she called out her friend's Floo address, she stuck her head in the magical green flames, and went through the familiar whirling journey, before she finally stopped in her friend's fireplace.

"Tracey?" she called.

There was a scream in a nearby room, and what sounded like a crash, and then two bodies simultaneously hitting the floor.

Tracey Davis came rushing into the room, clothes messy, face red, and sporting what looked suspiciously like a hickey on her neck.

"Daphne!" she said, surprised.

Daphne just gave her a shit-eating grin, and Tracey began blushing.

"So…. Are you going to introduce me Tracey?"

"Erm…Uhm…Ahem. This a rather long story…" Tracey began, red-faced. She was absolutely mortified that her best friend had discovered her in such a compromising position.

Daphne smiled predatorily. "Why, I was just calling because I have a lot of time and nothing to do! So why don't you sit down and tell me this "long story" of yours."

Tracey groaned. "Sometimes I really miss the Ice Queen. You'd never do this back during school."

Daphne merely laughed. "And you'd always make me privy to your love life. So I don't see why you're being so reticent now."

Just then the man whom Tracey had evidently been in a relationship with entered the man, and Daphne nearly died of shock. When the shock finally died down a little, it was replaced with burning anger.

**oOo**

The first lesson that Harry had gave him quite a shock.

He knew he was famous, and he expected a large turnout…but he didn't expect the _entire_ school to come out and learn. He had a suspicion that Professor McG—Minerva had planned it all out. Man, it was _still _weird to call a woman who'd been a constant professor figure in his life by her first name.

It made things rather difficult. Still, Harry separated them by age, and then demonstrated some simple flying to the younger years. They were the ones that took the least time. As he moved up the age groups, he showed them increasingly difficult flying maneuvers, and little tricks that would help them in various scenarios. His own special move, the Potter Perlative, in which he would fly straight at opposing Keepers, while making sure that he wouldn't collide with the Keeper. Generally the Keeper would get out of the way. This move would generally be dangerous, as he would both be removing his attention from the Snitch, and there would also be a substantial chance that he'd fly straight into the hoops that the Keeper was guarding when he moved aside, or he'd fly right into the stands. However, Harry had gotten good enough to either fly straight through the hoop and hook his leg around the hoop in order to change direction quickly without losing much speed or do a flip so that he'd be flying upside-down, but back towards the center of the pitch. There was a reason that he always made sure his glasses were securely stuck to his head with a Sticking Charm before he took off.

Both moves were potentially dangerous, and he'd once fractured his knee attempting to swing around the hoops with his leg, but generally, both worked quite well. He only played this dangerously when their Chasers were 130 to 140 points up, in order to get the last few goals past the Keeper so that they'd have a 150 or higher lead, and thus be able to win or at least tie the game.

He rather enjoyed showing off to the kids, but really, there wasn't much he could teach them when the whole school turned up. He made a mental note to do future "lessons" by year rather than just posting a notice without much thought.

He wrapped up the day by signing a couple autographs for the students, although he made sure to keep that part of the day short. He had no wish to spend the rest of his day with a sore hand.

He was just getting ready for bed, when his fireplace sprung up and a head emerged in the flames. Looking closely, Harry saw that it was Ron, and he looked worried.

"Harry, has Hermione been to Hogwarts?"

Harry frowned. "No, she hasn't. Why?"

Ron looked increasingly anxious, and said, "Well, looks like the surprise is off. It was Professor Babble-something's birthday a few days ago, and Hermione wanted to surprise her with something special. I think she's been working on some particular rune for ages now, and she wanted to show it to her. You sure she hasn't gotten there?"

Harry shook his head. "Unless she got here less than two hours ago, she hasn't arrived. I didn't see her at dinner, that's for sure."

Ron looked very worried now. "Well, if you see her, tell her to Floo call me. Even though it was Babble-something's birthday three days ago I think."

Harry was also getting worried. Could Hermione have disappeared?

"You don't think someone captured her or something ridiculous, mate?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged, but Harry couldn't see it, so he hastily added, "I don't know. I hope not. I have to contact the Ministry, so I'll talk to you later, alright?"

Harry nodded, and Ron's face disappeared with a pop.

Harry wasn't particularly superstitious, but after getting hit with multiple tragedies in a short span of time, prayed that Hermione wouldn't be added to that number.

The past few days had been hectic, what with getting himself settled in, and going over duties with Profess- Minerva. This was really the first time he'd had to really sit down and think. And it made him realize two crucial things.

One, he missed his old life. He missed the adrenaline-packed Quidditch matches, the thrill of flying, the taste of victory, even the bitter defeats. Even in his short career, he'd earned a number of achievements. World Cup Champion, World Cup Overall MVP, League Rookie of the Year, League MVP, were some of the prestigious awards he'd won. However, he was missing the title of League Champions.

He felt sure that the season after the World Cup would be his chance, but now that was gone. And Harry resolved to change that. He'd play Quidditch professionally again. He'd heard from Daphne about some pioneer potioneers who were developing some sort of potion that would strengthen bone structure. The potion was supposedly only used to help children who'd been abused and malnourished when they were younger. Still, Daphne speculated that it could help Harry's arm. The only real problem with the potion was that it didn't provide the nutrients required for the bones to strengthen. Harry didn't understand it much, as he'd never taken any biology or chemistry courses, but he understood that the potion would cause nutrient depletion, and he'd end up eating a lot, and drinking a lot of milk, in order to heal the brittle bones in his left arm.

That led to a problem, because it meant that he'd eat a lot, perhaps even after the potion effects wore off. That meant that he'd get fat, and Seekers couldn't be fat. He'd have to be exceptionally careful about it…

The second fact was that he missed Daphne. He hadn't fully appreciated what Daphne meant to him until he'd left her behind in London. This fact made Harry feel incredibly guilty. He hadn't been widowed for more than half a year, and already he was starting to have feelings for other women?

He still felt the pain of the loss of Ginny at times, but the pain had dulled to an ache, a throb, nowadays. Had he really loved Ginny? Did he love Daphne? The questions floated through his mind, and he had no answers.

Oliver had always said that Daphne fancied him, and that was what made Harry even more guilty. She'd been nothing, but kind and caring towards him, and he'd acted like an arsehole and an idiot more times than he could count in the few years they'd known each other. In the four months after Ginny's death especially, Harry'd been increasingly angry and bitter towards Daphne, and he'd even gone so far as to blame Daphne for her death, citing the stupid promotional show that she'd made him go to as the reason why he hadn't been with his wife, and thus been unable to protect her. He'd took it back immediately, but he knew that he'd hurt Daphne again, like his comment about money at the World Cup, right before the Finals.

Lying awake in his bed, he worried over Hermione, thought about Daphne and her beautiful smile, and wondered about whether or not he'd play Quidditch again.

He had nightmares that night, about various grisly scenes that always ended in Hermione's death, which were occasionally interrupted by a reproachful Daphne who blamed Harry for various things, all of them true.

It was very tired, and irritable Harry that emerged from his room the next day. Unfortunately for him, he got stuck on a trip step on a staircase, and his leg sunk in, rendering him unable to move. After waiting nearly fifteen minutes, someone finally passed by to help him out.

Aurora Sinistra seized Harry under his arms and heaved him out, but accidentally tripped on the step above the trip staircase, and they fell together, becoming a tangle of arms and legs. It ended with Harry on top of Aurora, and that was when he realized two things.

One, their position gave him an excellent view to what was under her shirt, and two, their faces were so close together that if Harry moved about three inches down, he'd be kissing his former Professor.

It was quite an awkward position to be in when one Hermione Granger arrived at the staircase, looking to find Bathshelda Babbling.

**oOo**

Later, after Hermione had presented her rune to very high praise from her former Ancient Runes teacher, she seized him by the ear and dragged him into his quarters.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. OW! Hermione! Geroff!" Harry exclaimed.

"Harry James Potter! I'm disgusted in you. First, how could you do such a thing to Daphne?! And second, WHY IN THE NAME OF MERLIN WERE YOU DOING THAT IN PUBLIC?!"

Harry winced at Hermione's shouts, and turned his wand on the door, muttering "_Muffliato_", before turning his attention on Hermione, who was continuing her tirade on "indecent activities", occasionally punctured by statements along the lines of "I thought you were a responsible adult!".

"Hermione! HERMIONE!" Harry shouted, trying to get the bushy-haired witch to stop.

She finally paused, more for air than because of Harry's shouting, and glared at him.

"First of all, Ron's been worried sick. Where have you been? He Flooed me yesterday asking if you had showed up yet."

Hermione's glare intensified.

"I got held up on the way here. But stop changing the subject! Now tell me, why were you and Aurora Sinistra lying on top of each other on a _public_ staircase?

"Hermione, it's not what you think."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Harry forestalled her with a hand.

"Look, I know it looks bad. But I swear, it wasn't what you think it was. I got stuck on the trip step on that staircase, and Aurora was just trying to help me out of it. Then, she tripped and we fell down a few steps, and ended up in that position. I swear, that's all that happened."

Hermione looked disbelievingly at him.

"If the look in both your eyes was anything to go by, and especially judging from the fact that YOU DIDN'T MAKE AN EFFORT TO MOVE… I don't believe you."

Harry winced at the renewed shouting.

"Look, I got distracted, I admit it, alright? I'm only male. Still, we didn't DO anything."

Hermione still didn't believe him, but let that pass. Still, she wasn't done.

"What about Daphne, Harry? How could you do that to her?"

"How could I do what?" Harry asked, confused.

"The poor girl is head over heels for you! Then you start up some sort of relationship with a colleague?!"

Harry snorted.

"One, Aurora and I don't have any type of relationship beyond friendship. Two, I highly doubt that Daphne is 'head over heels' for me. Don't you remember her moniker at school? The Ice Queen? I'm pretty sure that she isn't head over heels. Hell, I don't even believe Oliver when he says that she fancies me."

Hermione groaned, and put her head in her hands.

"I feel really terrible for you, Daphne. This idiot isn't worth it."

That comment actually began to make Harry feel a sense of worry.

"Wait, Hermione, are you being serious?"

"Of course, Harry. The girl cares about you. Why else do you think she visited you that often at the hospital?"

"Uhm.. Ahm… Uh… She's my friend" Harry stammered, knowing that that statement was so far from the truth that it wasn't even funny.

"Did you know that she quit her company? She fought with her boss, that complete prat Cormac McLaggen, and you know why? It was because she'd been spending too much time with _you_. She cares for you! You've been a right arse to her, too, and now you're lusting after Sinistra?!"

Harry looked down with shame.

"Look, it isn't that simple, alright? Ginny… she… I don't think I can do that to her."

Hermione looked at him with sadness.

"I miss Ginny too, Harry, but I know that she'd want you to be happy above everything. The fact that you care for her is touching, but I know that she wouldn't have approved of you moping after her and acting like Malfoy to a girl who obviously cares about you."

Harry winced at the Malfoy insult. In all the years that they'd known each other, Hermione had never said _that_ to him.

Hermione shook his head at Harry's silence, misinterpreting it as defiance.

"I really hope Daphne gets her head together and finds someone worthy of her time. You know I'll always support you, Harry, but you really need to think about what she means to you. I've seen the way you look at her, and I know there's something there. If you wait too long, she'll get tired of waiting for you eventually."

She left Harry staring out the window, thinking about what she said to him.

He knew that she was right. That didn't make it any easier for him.

**oOo**

"Malfoy?!" Daphne nearly shouted, shocked by the appearance of the former Prince of Slytherin half-naked from the adjoining room.

Tracey buried her head in her arms.

She hadn't meant for Daphne to find out this way. Her best friend would hate her forever for this. And Tracey really couldn't blame her.

But, Malfoy had _changed_. She was sure of it. Right?

Tracey, like Daphne, had harbored hatred for Draco Malfoy, due to his overbearing, arrogant manner back in school, his despicable acts such as joining the Death Eaters, and his disgusting advances that he'd made on nearly every girl in Slytherin House.

That was why, a month ago or so, Tracey had _not_ responded kindly to Draco sitting himself down at her table at a restaurant. She'd gone there to clear her head after a particularly difficult lesson that involved brewing medical potions which made her head spin. She'd glared at Draco, and was ready to hex him, when he started talking, and Tracey found the man to be quite different from the boy she remembered.

Draco had been well-mannered, polite, and humble, quite a stark contrast from his school self.

Tracey had still been wary and guarded around him, but she'd eventually started learning things about him. She saw real remorse and regret in his eyes when he talked about the Death Eaters. Now, he was working as a humble clerk at Twilfit and Tadding's in Diagon Alley. He said that although his previous life as one of the most highly respected and richest families in Magical Britain was much better financially, he felt that he was much happier nowadays, without the guilt, pressure, and other problems that had plagued him before.

He still felt sorrow at the fact that people sometimes shied away from him, or generally avoided eye-contact with him whenever they saw him, due to his despicable actions in the past.

Tracey wasn't sure if Draco was genuine, but she definitely felt an attraction to him. After all, Draco was very handsome, and he seemed like the perfect gentleman.

Hence, why they'd been dating for about a month now. They'd gotten intimate rather recently, which led to the awkward scene at Tracey's fireplace.

Daphne looked at Tracey accusingly, even though she couldn't see it.

Draco looked rather embarrassed at the interruption if the faint tinge of red on his normally pale cheeks was anything to go by. He also felt rather worried that Daphne had discovered them.

Draco had inadvertently caused the death of Daphne's mother, Irina, and Daphne had never forgiven him for it. It had occurred during their Seventh Year, as Irene had been caught trying to free some innocent prisoners who'd been jailed by Voldemort in the Greengrass home, one of many homes he'd taken over as "bases". Draco had been the one to find her, and turned her in. He'd been seeking revenge on the woman ever since she'd defied him by preventing the marriage between himself and Astoria.

Malfoy had never realized that his actions had just pushed Astoria farther away.

Her mother had been tortured, but the torturers accidentally went too far, and she died. Voldemort had punished his followers who'd done the torturing, as they'd spilled "Pureblood blood", but it gave Daphne little consolation.

The room fell silent, and Daphne, seeing that nothing could be gained by such a conversation, decided to leave Tracey and Malfoy alone.

After all, she had no wish to see one of her hated enemies defiling her best friend.

**oOo**

** The Draco Malfoy thing is not what you think. I really hope that I don't get flamed for portraying Malfoy in a pretty positive light so far. Things change…**

** Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Serpentine Virtues Chapter 5**

** A/N: I'm back! It's been an awesome vacation, and now it's back to work! School and writing. We'll see how I can balance those two. Updates will probably not be daily like they used to be after school starts (September 2). **

** Anywho, enjoy Chapter 5.**

** WARNING: Mentions of rape. Do not read if easily offended.**

**oOo**

Harry Potter was staring out the window. The snow was falling thickly, blanketing the grounds with a white, fluffy powder. It was a cold Saturday in February, nearly two months since Hermione's visit. It was also the season in which he had very little to do. The Quidditch Pitch was frozen, and he couldn't really give effective flying lessons in the snow. After all, not many people turned up, considering the weather, and he himself was reluctant to fly in frigid conditions, especially considering how he wasn't playing professionally.

He'd been brooding ever since Hermione had left. She'd said a lot of things that made Harry think, and it was messing with his head. The revelation that Daphne was in love with him was confusing him immensely.

He wasn't sure what to think. He knew that he felt something for his former agent and friend, but he wasn't prepared to start another relationship. He was feeling the grief and sadness over Ginny less, but her face still haunted his dreams…sometimes. And Harry knew that it would be completely unfair to Daphne if he began any type of romantic relationship with her while still being hung up on his recently deceased wife.

Unfortunately, according to Hermione, if he didn't make his move soon, some other bloke would be bound to "snatch" her away. He didn't want that. Anytime he thought of Daphne on the arm of another man reminded him of how he felt in Sixth Year with Ginny and Dean. He wasn't sure why, but just the thought of Daphne in a relationship was abhorrent to him. He hated himself for thinking this way, and tried to tell himself that Daphne deserved to be with whomever she believed would make her happy. This led to enormous amounts of inner turmoil as his heart fought with his head.

Normally, he buried any confused, romantic thoughts by working, whether it be professional Quidditch, or nowadays, teaching Quidditch, but right now, there was no work to be done. He was out of Quidditch for at least a while, both due to his weakened arm due to the Bludger, and his spinal injury from the Bludger to the head. The Healers hadn't talked as much about his head injury, but it had affected his movement in the air slightly. It was nothing majorly debilitating in regular life, but it affected him slightly when flying in the air. And in professional Quidditch, slightly was the difference between a win and a loss.

Really, all he could do nowadays was pop into a few DADA classes to offer a few pointers. While occasionally helping out with various classes was fun, he still felt incredibly restless, cooped up in a castle with nothing to do.

Harry resolved to speak with Daphne sometime over Easter, and decided to send her a letter. It didn't matter if they didn't enter a romantic relationship (he didn't believe himself ready anyway), at least they could define boundaries and understand each other. Perhaps he could ask Prof-er Minerva to grant him a few days leave so that he might visit her.

Making up his mind, he got up from his armchair and his solitude, and headed towards McGonagall's office. Along the way, he was joined by Aurora, who still blushed whenever she saw him.

Deciding that he really didn't want colleagues who couldn't look him in the face for more than a few seconds, Harry decided to initiate a conversation with the Astronomy Professor, since there was an opportunity here. Besides, Aurora had seemed fairly friendly, even back during his school years, and Harry wanted to be on good terms with his colleagues.

"Hello Aurora." He said, in what he hoped was a casual tone.

Aurora looked at him with surprise, thinking that it would just be a silent walk to wherever they were going, still blushing a little from memories of him on top of her.

"Uhm… Hi Mr. Po-er Harry." She stammered.

The two walked in an awkward silence that dragged on and on for a little. Until Harry got tired of it, and tried to initiate the conversation again.

"Um… Aurora, I-I wanted t-to talk…about…w-what… I mean… that d-day on the staircase…" Harry stammered, feeling incredibly awkward knowing that he was having this conversation with a former professor of his.

Aurora smiled hesitantly at him. 'He was attractive.' She admitted to herself, and, after all, he was no longer her student so…

She quickly banished that dangerous thought from her mind. Merlin, what was she thinking? Her cheeks were reddening further at her thoughts.

Harry, meanwhile, took her silence as discomfort and anger, and immediately tried to placate the "irate" witch.

Aurora quickly put a stop to Harry's apologies and self-recriminations. She knew that it was incredibly embarrassing for the two of them, and she really didn't want to draw out the pain.

"It's alright, Harry. I know it meant nothing. I'm not angry over what transpired. It was an accident on the staircase, that's all."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was good that aurora hadn't gotten the wrong idea over the awkward situation on the stairs. Meanwhile, Aurora smiled at him, thinking that her former student was indeed quite cute when he was flustered.

She cursed herself for these inappropriate thoughts that kept flitting their way into her head.

They were silent until Aurora broke off from Harry and headed off towards the Astronomy Tower, while Harry continued his trek towards the Headmistress's office. He wondered briefly why that particular office was so far from the staffs' quarters, but dismissed the thought as trivial. He had more important things to focus on.

He told the Gargoyle the password ("Albus!"), and headed up, knocking when he reached the door.

A voice inside bade him to enter, and he turned the doorknob, opening the door into McGonagall's office.

The Headmistress was seated behind her desk filing some papers away in one of the many drawers in her desk.

"Harry? Is there something wrong?" Minerva asked, quite surprised to see one of her favorite former students in her office.

"No Prof-er Minerva. I just wondered if I could…leave the school during Easter…?"

Minerva fixed him with one of her searching looks.

"Whatever for, Harry?"

Harry blushed, and said, "I want to go visit a friend."

Minerva didn't know much about Harry's personal life, but she felt sorry for him, losing his wife in such an untimely manner.

Although, if the color of his cheeks were anything to go by, he may have found someone new.

"Alright Harry, I'll grant you three days leave to go visit this 'friend.' Make sure to let me know before you leave and when you arrive."

"Of course, Minerva." Harry said, before turning to leave. Minerva watched him go, and wondered who the lucky lady was.

oOo

Daphne Greengrass didn't want to be here. Here in this Muggle Pub, wearing a slinky black drew that was drawing far more attention to herself than she was comfortable with.

She cursed Oliver for bringing her here. He'd insisted that he owed her for the rather juicy contract she'd landed him with Ballycastle. With Harry gone from professional Quidditch, Chudley had reverted to their tradition of being a bottom-of-the-league team, and Oliver had no wish to stay with Chudley. He was still seeking the elusive League trophy.

All night long, Daphne had been plagued by various men. Oliver had done his best to keep them away…for about three seconds before he disappeared somewhere with a young, blonde, leggy witch. Daphne was left to fend for herself.

Suddenly, a familiar face materialized next to her seemingly from thin air. Unfortunately, it wasn't a friendly face. Her lip curled in disgust as she stared into the face of Marcus Flint, Quidditch Keeper wannabe who happened to be half-troll. He'd been rejected by both Puddlemere and Tutshill when he'd tried out, and had finally landed a reserve spot on the Falmouth Falcons. It didn't matter that he was a third-string reserve Keeper, and was unlikely to ever play in a game. He'd then proceeded to seek out an agent, and decided that Daphne was the perfect agent for him.

Daphne had never liked the guy in school, and he'd been a Dark Lord supporter after he graduated, although he'd never been caught in any criminal activities, and he did not bear the Mark. She'd turned him down instantly, and cited a lack of time as her reason. It was what was required by the firm. You couldn't simply reject a client because you didn't like said client.

"Why hello there Daphne, you're looking stunning." said a grinning Marcus Flint in what he believed to be a charming manner.

Daphne fixed him with her patented Ice-Queen glare. Marcus, for all his bravado, took a step back warily.

"What do you want, Flint?"

"You, of course!" Marcus replied with a lecherous grin.

Daphne raised one elegant eyebrow at him, and asked, "Have you forgotten your failures to woo girls both during and after school, Marcus? Especially your many attempts on me? Now fuck off before you regret it."

Marcus, though, wouldn't be deterred.

"Aw, come on, Daph, I know you've lightened up since school," he said, scooting a little closer to her. So close, in fact, that Daphne could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Daphen raised her knee, prepared to knee the perverted bastard in the balls. A mistake.

Marcus, displaying an agility and speed that belied his reputation…and inebriation state, snatched Daphne's leg, and delivered a hard blow to it, incapacitating her for a few moments as she bent forward in pain. This was enough time for him to snatch Daphne's purse off her arm, which also happened to contain her wand.

Normally, Daphne would always keep her wand on her person and not in her purse, but her dress today didn't allow her to put her wand anywhere inconspicuous, so she'd placed it in her purse.

The pain in her leg had dulled, and she looked up, but realized her predicament when she noticed her purse was gone.

Marcus smiled sinisterly. He'd finally get what he'd always wanted.

After casting a Silencing Charm on Daphne to prevent her from crying out, and discreetly immobilizing her, catching her as she pitched forward. He carried her out of the pub saying, "Oh, Daphne, look at you, you've drunk way too much again. Let's get you home now, dear."

Once they were outside and in a darkened alley, Marcus cast "Finite Incantatem" to remove his earlier immobilization, before smirking at Daphne, who was glaring at him, backed into a corner.

Daphne hated herself for being caught off guard like that. She'd underestimated Flint badly, and now she was going to pay the ultimate price. Tears slid down her cheeks.

Marcus was incredibly turned on by the sight of Daphne's hot curvy form cowering helplessly in front of him, and her tears were exciting him even further.

'Serves that cold, stuck-up bitch right.' He thought.

Just as he was about to Vanish her clothes and defile her, a cold voice said, "Now I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Marcus, shocked that they'd somehow been discovered, clumsily turned on the spot, looking around for the source of the mysterious voice. He even forgot about the wand in his hand for a moment. He never got to find the voice as he was knocked out by a Stunner to the side of the head.

Daphne realized that someone had somehow saved her. She looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of her savior.

A blonde, tall, gorgeous man stared back at her, concern evident in his eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, but Daphne couldn't put a name on the face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, leaning down to give her a hand.

Daphne wiped away some tears, took the man's hand, and said, "Yes I am. Thanks for…well…everything."

The man smiled.

"Daphne Greengrass, is it?"

Daphne turned, surprised that the man knew her name.

"Why yes. How'd you know my name?" she asked.

"I went to school with you. We were in the same year, although we never did talk." The mysterious man said.

Daphne's interest was piqued.

"Who are you?"

The man smiled.

"My name is Kevin Entwhistle."

Daphne looked down, slightly ashamed that she didn't even recognize someone from her own year at Hogwarts, and she'd prided herself on being observant.

"Well, thank you for everything…" she said quietly.

Kevin smiled, and Daphne couldn't help, but notice how wonderful he looked when he smiled. She still felt something for Harry, but Harry wasn't here. He was at Hogwarts, and if the rumors were true, had entered a relationship with the resident Astronomy teacher. She hoped he was happy.

"It's quite alright, Ms. Greengrass." Kevin replied, jolting Daphne from her thoughts.

She smiled at him, and hesitantly asked, "Would you mind coming inside the pub for a drink?"

Kevin's smile brightened.

"I'd love to."

"Oh, and Mr. Entwhistle?"

"Yes?"

"Call me Daphne."

oOo

In an obscure warehouse at the center of Shanghai, China, a meeting was taken place.

There were two people seated at an expensive mahogany table, being served food and drinks by a few servants.

"I wish to enlist your help, Mr. Zhou." The pretty young woman at the table spoke up.

"But of course, my dear Ms. Chang, I will help you…for a price."

Cho rolled her eyes in exasperation. She wouldn't be here if she didn't have money to offer.

"I want you to kill Harry Potter's loved ones."

The room was silent for a moment. Then, Mr. Zhou spoke up again.

"Ms. Chang, you want us to…kill the loved ones of the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Cho Chang scowled.

"Are you deaf? That's exactly what I said, you idiot."

Mr. Zhou bristled at the rudeness. Still, the Changs were one of their richest clients, so killing or hurting the scion of the family would be quite detrimental to their finances.

"Ms. Chang, as I'm sure you are aware, there is no one on this Earth whom I believe is capable of taking down Mr. Potter in a duel, much less in my employ."

Cho gritted her teeth in frustration. Why did she put up with these idiots. She couldn't understand why her father had praised Zhou and his network of assassins, especially if he was this dense.

"Did I say I want you to kill Potter? No, I said that I want you to kill his friends and family."

Mr. Zhou was quite frustrated with his client's failure to see the bigger picture of such an operation.

"If I kill Mr. Potter's friends and families, he will retaliate, and I will lose much more than I gain. Do you understand?"

Cho shook her head in exasperation. She was getting nowhere with this moron.

She stood up from the table, and said, "Well, since you are obviously unable or unwilling to help me, I shall look for services elsewhere. Goodbye, Mr. Zhou."

Mr. Zhou, unfortunately for himself, couldn't afford to lose such a valuable client.

Knowing he'd regret it later, he nevertheless cried out, "Ms. Chang! Wait!"

Cho turned, and waited, inwardly smirking. Money always achieved results.

"My organization will undertake your operation…for triple the price." Mr. Zhou said, unable to keep the greed off his face.

Cho frowned. Rich as her family might be, triple Mr. Zhou's fee was nothing to scoff at.

"Double, or I'll be leaving." Cho said, after some contemplation.

Mr. Zhou smiled. "Very well, Ms. Chang. A pleasure to do business with you, as always."

Cho nodded back. "Likewise."

"If you would please provide a full list of targets for me?" Mr. Zhou said.

Cho nodded. "They will be delivered by a messenger in three days. Code word shall be Diggory."

"Very well." Mr. Zhou said, standing up and shaking Cho's hand.

Cho left feeling satisfied.

She'd been distraught over the death of Cedric, and had always, in the back of her mind, suspected that Potter was behind his death. Then, her beloved mother had been tortured and killed by Voldemort because of her connections to Potter. She'd been forced to watcher her death as well, and narrowly escaped Death herself, although not without paying a price. Her legs still hurt sometimes with phantom pain from her time in Death Eater captivity, where they used her for their pleasure almost daily.

All because of Potter. And she didn't even get any sort of recognition from the bastard. She'd just been brushed aside while he and his friends had risen to the pinnacle of Britain's Wizarding society.

Well, she was sick and tired of being used by the Chosen one. He'd taken advantage of her in her Sixth Year, after he'd gotten Cedric killed in her Fifth, and then she'd tried to mend fences with him at the Battle of Hogwarts, only to be brushed off casually. Her friends and family had been killed, tortured, and raped, and he has the gall to just pretend like nothing happened.

Cho Chang was determined to make Saint Potter feel the pain that she, and countless others must have felt because of him during the War.

Mr. Zhou would just help make sure of it.

oOo

Tracey Davis was worried. Daphne had all, but ignored her ever since she'd found her with Draco.

Tracey knew why her best friend hated Draco. And she had hated him too, once. But he'd come to her, apologizing, and acting different than he'd ever had in the past.

He'd been a changed man. Tracey was sure of it.

The only problem was, Daphne definitely wouldn't see it that way. To her, a Death Eater was a Death Eater, and she hated Draco more than other Death Eaters, because of her mother.

Tracey still remembered how she had to comfort her friend after Daphne had received news of her mother's death.

Now, she decided to Floo call her friend. She needed to talk to her, and to explain.

She called out the address of her friend's flat where she lived. Daphne had only recently connected her flat to the Floo Network. But it made contacting her so much easier.

When her head finally stopped spinning, she looked up into Daphne's living room. Daphne was standing by the window, staring out with a faraway look in her eyes.

Tracey wondered what her friend could possibly be thinking about, but decided to announce her presence.

She spoke up, "Daphne?"

Daphne jumped, nearly spilling the coffee in her hand.

She turned towards the fireplace, and her demeanor hardened.

"Tracey." She said simply, without emotion.

Tracey had always hated her friend's Ice Queen mask back in school. She now found that she hated it even more when the mask was directed at her.

"Look, Daphne, I know you hate him, but at least give him a chance."

Daphne's mask slipped a little, and Tracey saw the anger underneath.

"I don't care if the little ferret changed. He killed my mother. I'm never going to forgive him for that." She said coldly.

Tracey pleaded with her friend, "He's better. He's remorseful of his actions. I swear, Daphne. I hated him as much as you did back in Seventh Year. You know that. But I know he's changed."

Daphne turned away.

"You can go out with him if you like. But don't ever ask for me to like him."

Tracey sighed. She knew how stubborn Daphne was. She'd tried to get her to lighten up in school, but that had failed miserably. She was incredibly stubborn, and she knew she couldn't change her mind.

"Alright. What were you thinking about when I got here?" Tracey asked, changing the subject.

Daphne raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Well…" Tracey began, smirking.

Daphne put her head in her hands. She knew her friend had always wanted to know every detail of her love life, especially considering her reputation in school.

She'd even held Tracey back from too many amorous relationships in school. In fact, Daphne was fairly sure that she was the reason Tracey was still a virgin by their Sixth Year.

"You know I'll get it out of you eventually, so just tell me." Tracey coaxed.

Daphne threw her hands up in the air in a gesture of exasperation.

"Come through."

Tracey grinned. Perhaps this would be the first step to some sort of reconciliation with her friend.

She stepped through the Floo, and stumbled upon landing. It was a rare occurrence, but she occasionally still messed up Floo travel. After all, she'd been raised in a Half-blood family that tried not to use magic when possible.

Daphne was sitting on the couch, waiting for her. She sat down next to her and looked at her expectantly.

And Tracey listened to her inner conflict that she felt. Apparently, Daphne was hung up on two guys.

Tracey didn't remember much about Kevin Entwhistle. She'd only talked to him once, and that was because she had clumsily crashed right into him in her Fifth Year.

He'd seemed nice enough back then, and the story of how he saved Daphne from an unpleasant fate put him Tracey's good books.

Still, Potter had been Daphne's love interest for over a year now, despite the fact that he was married. And now that he was newly single, Tracey knew that Daphne had wanted to be the one to be there for him, to comfort him, and to be the new lady in his life.

Those plans hadn't exactly gone the way she'd wanted though. Potter had been, understandably, cold and distant after Ginny's death, and Daphne had never connected with him in the way that she'd wanted.

Now, Potter was off teaching Quidditch at Hogwarts. Tracey offered Daphne the best advice she could.

"I think that you should give Kevin Entwhistle a chance. He definitely seems like a nice, selfless guy, saving you from Flint. Besides, Potter's at Hogwarts, and didn't you say he was in a relationship with our old Professor Sinistra?"

"Those are just rumors…" Daphne said quietly. Still there was an air of defeat in her voice, and Tracey felt bad. The Hogwarts rumor mill hadn't been all that accurate, but it did on occasion get things right.

Although Tracey had learned over the years that perhaps she shouldn't listen to rumors about Harry Potter. They seemed to get wilder year after year. And yet, there definitely was some truth in the rumors. Especially the Ministry one in their Fifth Year, as Potter had been photographed at the Ministry, looking quite beat up.

"Tracey, I'm not sure. I've felt something for Harry for ages. Now I just meet Kevin, and you think I should go out with him?"

Tracey shook her head.

"Of course not. Just get to know him better. Besides, you don't even have to go out on a date with him. Just have lunch or something with him."

Daphne glared at her. "That is a date."

"Well, I would come, but I'm busy. I've got classes at noon, so I can't come."

Daphne was contemplating the situation when suddenly, there came a rapping on the window. Looking up, she saw a Hogwarts school owl tapping on her window.

Surprised that a Hogwarts school owl was actually tapping on her window, she rose and crossed the room, before lifting the latch and allowing the owl inside. Her heart leaped when she saw the sender.

_Harry Potter._

He'd sent her a letter.

Oh, this was going to complicate things.

She opened the letter.

_Dear Daphne,_

_ First of all, I'd like to apologize. I know that I haven't been the easiest person to get along with since Ginny's death. Far from it, in fact. So I'd like to apologize, and I hope you'll forgive me._

_I think I'm over her death, and I'd like to resume our previous relationship before the incident. Hermione's enlightened me to a few things in her trip. I think I need to talk to you. And not like over Floo or something. I want to meet you, to see you, and to talk to you. I made arrangements with Minerva to see you this Easter. If you have time that is. If you don't that's alright, I'll find someone to visit. Please send back a reply. You can choose the time and place if you're coming._

_I also heard about the incident with Marcus Flint. I'm furious, and I swear I'm going to kill him next time I see him. I hope you're alright. I heard that Kevin Entwhistle saved you. He's a good person. I remember him back from leading the Defence club in our Fifth Year against Umbridge. I'm glad he was there to help you, and I wish I could've been there for you._

_With my sincere apologies,_

_Harry_

Tracey had walked over and read the note over her friend's shoulder.

She smirked at her, and patted her on the shoulder.

"Have fun figuring this mess out."

Daphne just glared at her.

The letter from Harry told her several things. One, he really cared about her, which just intensified the feelings she'd had for him. Two, his apologies were incredibly sweet. They were endearing him to her even more. Three, he'd praised Kevin, which just made her life that much harder. And last of all, he wanted to see her! He was coming to see her!

She was dancing with joy inside.

Tracey was smirking at her, no doubt reading the emotions flitting across her face.

Daphne merely glared at her, and said, "Shut up," although there was no malice in her voice. She was too happy for that.

Tracey just continued to smirk at her.

Daphne grabbed a piece of paper, and quickly composed a reply.

"Oh would you stop smirking!" she yelled.

Tracey just turned towards the fireplace, but before she tossed the powder in, she threw one last parting shot.

"Are you taking advantage of a poor, young, rich widower?"

Tracey quickly jumped into the fireplace, dodging the thrown coffee cup that went flying her way.

**oOo**

**Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Serpentine Virtues Chapter 6**

** I'm pretty sure that I'm going to get flamed because of how I have portrayed Harry so far. But honestly, what would be the point of a story if Harry and Daphne fell in love immediately and got pregnant by like Chapter 6…? Just wait and see what happens.**

**An explanation about Skele-Grow is in this Chapter. However, I have very little experience in the medical field. So… I highly doubt my reasoning and inferences in this chapter are realistic and/or correct. But I try…**

** Really, REALLY torturous chapter to write. I know what I want to happen before and after this chapter, but…this one just came really slowly. And it was incredibly difficult to write properly.**

**Need a beta. Please PM if interested. Enjoy Chapter 6.**

**oOo**

Harry Potter had spent about three months in the hospital fixing up both his spinal cord and his destroyed arm. It was quite an unpleasant experience.

The Healers had decided against using a Vanishing Charm to Vanish all the broken bones in his arm, before using Skele-Grow to repair it.

This was mainly due to the fact that Harry, while being well-fed for the most part of his adult life, was still suffering the long-term effects of malnourishment that he'd suffered at the hands of his relatives in his early life.

While they weren't affecting his performance when he was healthy, his bone structure was significantly weaker due to his body developing in a malnourished state. The Skele-Grow that he'd used in his Second Year to regrow the bones in his arm due to Lockhart's ineptness had taken much longer than it should have to work.

When Hermione had taken Skele-Grow at Shell's Cottage back when they were hunting Horcruxes, her bones had mended within a few hours. It took him a full night to regrow all his bones in the Hospital Wing.

In fact, after his bones had been regrown, Madam Pomfrey had warned that it would be quite a toll on his body if he were to use Skele-Grow in the future.

Now, he was trying to get his Quidditch career back on track. Damn the Healers for saying that it was impossible. Nothing was impossible, especially if you were named Harry Potter.

As he pored over recent studies about bone growth and bone-strengthening potions that pioneer potioneers were studying, he got one clear message. It was possible, but incredibly expensive for him to play Quidditch again.

It was a good thing, then, that he'd received the combined fortunes of the Potter and Black families. Still, looking at the treatments, it was clear that they weren't exactly…pleasant.

He heard a sharp tapping on the window, and turned. Outside, a school owl was tapping on the window, a letter tied to its leg.

Harry smiled. It was the same owl that he'd sent out to Daphne a few days ago.

Quickly crossing the room, he threw open the window, shivering a little as a blast of frigid, February air. After letting the owl in, which proceeded to shake off all the ice and snow clinging to it right onto his newspaper, he quickly shut the window before moving towards the fireplace. The owl flew after him, and settled itself on the arm of the armchair that he sank into. He untied the letter, gave the owl a few Knuts, thanked it, and watched it fly towards the window. It gave him a reproachful look.

Harry groaned, walking to the window once more, and opening it to allow the owl out. Why the stupid bird wanted to fly in the frigid weather instead of heading towards the Owlery from the inside of the school he'd never know.

Sitting down again, he opened the letter, written in Daphne's usual neat, elegant script.

_Dear Harry,_

_ It was so nice to hear from you again. We've been out of touch._

Harry winced at this. He really shouldn't have abandoned Daphne after he left for Hogwarts. He'd spent nearly two months without contacting her. Some friend he was.

_Anyways, there's no need to apologize. I totally understand you had problems at the time. I hope you are getting better. Life moves on. If you want someone to talk to, I'm always here._

Harry smiled at that. There was his Daphne, always caring about him, being there for him when he needed her.

_And I'd be thrilled to see you over Easter. I heard there was this fancy new Italian restaurant that opened up a few blocks from the Leaky Cauldron, and I've received nothing, but rave reviews for it. If you're up for it, we could go there. I know Easter this year is April 8, so if you want, we could meet up for lunch that day? Or perhaps dinner? We can set a date via Floo call or something._

_ As for Flint, I was really scared. I don't know how much you've heard, but he was ready to rape me. I thought that I'd really be giving up my virtue, Harry. I was so scared._

Harry mentally kicked himself. He should've been there for her.

_But I'm okay. No damage done. Please stop worrying about me, Harry. I know you will. And don't get into trouble because of me with Flint alright? He's not worth it. I'm sure I can handle him the next time he shows his face in front of me. I just got overconfident last time, and underestimated him badly._

_ I miss you, Harry. See you during Easter._

_ Love,_

_ Daphne_

'I miss you, Harry.' Harry traced those words with his index finger, his emotions a storm within him.

He missed Daphne desperately. Missed her sarcasm, her wit, and how she always knew him. Really knew him. She knew when to leave him alone, when to be there for him, and generally what mood he was in. She was one of a very select few people that treated him like Harry, not Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Conqueror of Voldemort, Leader of the Light, and International Quidditch sensation. Those were just a few of his many titles that he was absolutely sick of.

He checked his schedule. He was due to show off his Patronus Charm to the Fifth Years in a few minutes, so he decided that he really didn't have the time to Floo call Daphne, no matter how much he wanted to. But he knew that he'd be calling her later that day.

He knew, in his heart, that he really liked her, loved her even. But his brain was fighting him every step of the way. His nightmares at night, which, more often than not, ended up with various scenes that showed Ginny's death, kept preventing him from making the first step towards any sort of romantic relationship with his former agent.

And now there was Kevin Entwhistle. Harry remembered him to be a quiet, studious, Ravenclaw back in Fifth Year, who was quite likable and easy to get along with. He certainly wasn't the most popular person in Ravenclaw, but he had his own select group of friends who were as tight as ticks.

Harry knew that there was a very real possibility of Kevin "snatching Daphne away", as Hermione had put it.

Harry shook those thoughts from his mind. He needed to think happy thoughts. Heading out the door, he focused on the memory of his first kiss with Ginny, back in Sixth Year. As he headed towards the Defence classroom, he mentally prepared himself for the Patronus Charm.

Recently, his Patronus had been quite weaker, although it was still a corporeal Patronus that would drive off quite a few Dementors. He suspected it had something to do with Ginny's death, which made all of his happy memories dimmer, and less joyful. Thus, he'd had to spend a few extra minutes really conjuring up a happy memory.

He entered the Defence classroom, nodding respectfully to Narcissa Malfoy, who was standing by the blackboard.

After exchanging pleasantries, he began his demonstration. He thought back to his memory of Ginny. Somehow, he felt that it wasn't sufficient. He didn't feel truly happy. Sifting through his memories, he suddenly found one. Thinking 'why not?', he focused on the memory, and let it fill him up.

Raising his wand, he cried, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

Prongs burst forth from his wand, looking much more radiant than he'd been before. In fact, Harry hadn't seen his Patronus shining this brightly since his Third Year, when he'd saved Sirius from a hundred Dementors.

Harry wasn't surprised that he'd produced such a powerful Patronus. No, he was surprised by the memory that conjured it.

It was a memory of Daphne.

**oOo**

Kevin Entwhistle lived in a modest London apartment. He didn't earn much, working as a mere clerk in a nearby store.

He was studying law, hoping to be a lawyer, trying to make a name for himself. His parents had been Muggles, so he had a foot in both worlds. Magic made schoolwork a lot easier, which gave Kevin a lot of time to roam the streets.

He hadn't expected to see anyone from Hogwarts when he walked into a Muggle Pub a few days ago. In fact, he'd been looking forward to a quiet drink at the bar, before heading home to finish his homework. Kevin traditionally frequented this bar after his shift at the store, and found it to be an excellent stress reliever that he'd need before really working on his homework.

He'd entered the bar, and had been heading towards the bar, when he noticed a little commotion in the corner. A man looked to be carrying a young woman outside. At a first glance, it looked like the young woman had just drank too much. However, two things piqued his interest. First, the young woman's face was very familiar, although Kevin couldn't quite put a name to the face at first. Second, the woman's eyes did not look like the eyes of an intoxicated person. They were clear, alert, and full of fear.

Upon further scrutiny, Kevin realized that the young woman was Daphne Greengrass, the former Slytherin Ice Queen. Kevin wasn't incredibly connected to the Wizarding World, but the last thing that he'd heard about Daphne Greengrass was that she'd become a sports agent, and was representing some of the finest players in the sport, including the legendary Harry Potter.

Knowing something wrong was happening, Kevin placed his hand in his pocket, fingering his wand as he silently followed the man carrying Daphne out of the bar.

When Kevin saw the man taking Daphne down a darkened alley, he knew something was wrong. He'd followed, silently, watching events unfold, and saved Daphne once he'd realized what the man, who turned out to be Marcus Flint, was going to do.

Once he'd saved her, and they'd gone back to the pub, Kevin had found Daphne to be a beautiful, smart, and most importantly, single young woman.

He wasn't the type of person to take advantage of someone in their emotional state, which was why he'd held back when they'd gone drinking together after the incident.

She'd hurried off after a quick goodbye an hour later or so, and Kevin had watched her go wistfully. She'd definitely caught his attentions.

Now, he found himself unable to concentrate at school. Ever since that night at the pub, it had been increasingly difficult to sit through two-hour law classes that he'd once found enrapturing. His mind was filled with images of the gorgeous blonde that he'd met, and he was mentally kicking himself for not noticing her back at Hogwarts.

His grades were suffering because of it, but that was alright. He'd done well for most of the course, and he was now seeking an internship at a popular law firm. He'd managed to get one to a fairly famous firm, McLaggen Enterprises, which specialized in representing all types of clients, most notably athletes.

Kevin would be lying if he'd claimed that Daphne's own job occupation hadn't affected his decision somewhat.

He'd gotten an interview with the boss, who turned out to be the giant prat Cormac McLaggen. He'd never been fond of the arrogant, overbearing, blonde Gryffindor, and it seemed that his swagger and arrogance had not diminished a bit.

He'd been assigned to work for another former classmate of his, Blaise Zabini, who had secretly confided in him that he would be leaving the company soon due to McLaggen's unbearable attitude.

Today, he was told that he would be meeting a good friend of Blaise's who was an outstanding agent. Apparently this friend had once also been a part of the firm, and had quit due to McLaggen's attitude. Then, Blaise's friend created a firm, and proceeded to do quite well, earning a load of money representing various athletes. It sounded like a pretty awesome "spit in your face" type of action against McLaggen. Blaise himself was seriously considering joining his friend.

Kevin was quite excited to meet this friend of Blaise's, as it sounded like the person was quite skilled in the agent field, and he wanted to learn as much as he could.

He followed Blaise into the fancy French restaurant. Apparently, his friend was quite rich as well. That just made it an even bigger reason for Kevin to learn as much as he could today.

He coughed, straightened his tie, checked again to make sure he looked presentable, and, deciding that he looked fine, followed Blaise to where a young woman was waiting at the table.

Still, he sure as hell wasn't prepared when the young woman lifted her head, and Kevin caught a glimpse of the face. In fact, his mouth dropped open, and he was pretty sure he made a total fool of himself.

He was also mentally cursing himself for never finding out much about _her_ back when they'd had a few drinks in the bar.

After all, if he'd known that Blaise's friend was Daphne Greengrass, why, he'd have done a _lot_ more, should have done a lot more, to get ready for this meeting.

**oOo**

March had finally arrived at Hogwarts, and finally, _finally_, most of the snow had melted off the grounds. There were still spots of it here and there, but most of it was gone.

It was still fairly cold, though, and Harry and Neville were wearing hats and scarves as they took their morning jog around the lake.

Honestly, Neville hadn't gotten this much exercise in a while. Normally, he would work on his plants in the morning, and prepare for his classes that day. Still, when Harry had approached him with the idea of a jog around the lake every morning, Neville didn't refuse. He recognized it as an opportunity to talk and reminisce with Harry, and he'd learned a lot about his friend, and what happened to him after the war.

Evidently, Harry hadn't decided to go the Auror route he'd pursued throughout his school career. Quite understandable, considering the life he'd led. His love for Quidditch also seemed to be a major factor.

Neville felt bad for his friend, who no longer could play Quidditch professionally due to his injuries. It was like taking away someone's life dream before they could complete it.

Something was up with Harry recently though. Neville noticed that his friend had become quite distant and distracted. He was still friendly and everything, but it seemed that Harry always had his mind elsewhere. Neville wasn't normally one to pry, but it got a little out of hand when Harry nearly ran into the lake, and probably would have if Neville hadn't shouted a warning.

"Harry, what's up with you lately?" Neville asked, finally unable to keep his silence. He was worried about his friend, seeing how distracted he was. The last time that Harry had been this distracted, he'd wound up attempting to kill himself by giving himself over to Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest.

"Huh?" Harry asked, almost as if he was just waking up from a really long, strange dream.

Neville grabbed Harry by the shoulders, and shook him hard.

"Harry! Hello!? Are you in there? What's wrong?"

Harry was jolted out of his reverie. He'd been daydreaming about a certain blonde agent recently, and it was showing in his absent-minded actions.

"Geez, Neville, there's no need to shout." Harry said, running a hand through his hair.

Neville just raised an eyebrow skeptically at him.

"Alright, alright…" Harry acquiesced, "I'm just a little distracted, okay?"

"Really? I didn't catch on to that at all." Neville said sarcastically.

"Sorry, mate." Harry said sheepishly.

"So, what's going on? Is there some new Dark Lord that's after your blood?"

"Erm, no. It's nothing dangerous actually." Harry replied.

Neville snorted. "That's a first."

Harry didn't respond, choosing to let the silence draw longer, hoping that Neville would drop the topic.

He was not that lucky.

"So, what's got the Great Harry Potter's knickers all in a twist?" Neville asked a few moments later, grinning.

Harry glared at him. "Nothing, nothing at all."

Neville shrugged. "I'll get it out of you eventually."

"Look, there's just something that I need to figure out over Easter break. Stop worrying about me." Harry said, trying to dissuade Neville from the topic.

"What is it? Girl trouble?" Neville joked.

Harry spluttered at the implication. "No, no, of course not!" His voice was an octave higher than usual.

Neville grinned like the cat that got the canary.

"So it is girl trouble? Who's the lucky lady, eh?"

Harry groaned, and jogged faster, trying to outrun Neville. When he'd first gotten here, Neville wasn't very fit, having spent most of his time working in the greenhouses, and having little time to really exercise. While working in the greenhouses could be exhausting, and required a lot of energy, it just wasn't the same as a run around the lake.

Nowadays, however, Neville had managed to keep up with Harry most days, and a winter spent cooped up in a castle had certainly diminished Harry's fitness a little.

But when Harry really went all-out, Neville still found himself huffing and puffing, trying to keep up. Still, he resolved to make Harry's life a living hell until he fessed up as to exactly who was the cause of his recent behavior. He wanted to make sure that Harry was okay, especially the whole tragedy with Ginny.

After all, he was a Longbottom, and he would always stick by a Potter.

**oOo**

She hadn't known that he would be Blaise's intern. In fact, it was almost as if Fate was intervening, pushing her towards him.

Really. What were the chances that the very same man who'd saved her from a horrible fate would then be assigned to her best friend as an intern. Especially considering how Blaise had no idea that _he_ was the savior that night.

Daphne was incredibly confused, surprised, and even a little distressed after the lunch meeting. Kevin had been incredibly eager to learn, and Daphne had provided him with as many tips as she could. All the while feeling incredibly conflicted, especially when she caught Kevin's eyes wandering a little bit farther south than needed.

Normally, she'd get quite angry if she caught someone ogling her inappropriately, but…he had saved her, and it was only that one time. He'd been a polite gentleman nearly all throughout, and his enthusiasm for law shone through clearly. Daphne genuinely liked him.

Which was why she was currently conflicted, and confused about her own feelings.

Harry had finally started to take notice of her. It had taken nine long months, but he was coming, making a special trip out of Hogwarts, just to see her. But this whole…_thing_ she had with Kevin just made it incredibly confusing, and Daphne wasn't sure now where exactly her affections lay. Did she love Harry? Definitely. The dense, idiot of a hero had wormed his way into her heart years ago, and had stayed there. Sometimes she wished she'd never met him, but sometimes she felt that she couldn't live without him.

Then, a new hero emerges, saving her from a ghastly fate at the hands of Marcus Flint. While she wasn't sure if she felt anything for him, she did owe him everything. Kevin was kind, charming, handsome, everything that Daphne had seen in Harry.

So she was really, REALLY confused. Oliver had been quite worried about her, especially when she missed their monthly lunch meet. She'd _always_ gone to the monthly lunch meet. Oliver always picked a new, fancy restaurant, and Daphne had always enjoyed being pampered, even at the expense of Oliver's horrible jokes and sporadic attempts at flirting.

This time, though, she just up and forgot that it was going to happen, and Oliver was worried because of that. She just wasn't herself, and Oliver had been pestering her for days now, trying to get her to tell him what's wrong.

Which she couldn't, obviously. Daphne never told anyone about her relationship problems; not even Tracey. She didn't want to appear weak. She knew, deep down, that this notion was silly, but it was a part of her Ice Queen façade that she'd never been able to completely give up. She was an independent young woman, and she wanted to show it to the world.

She was currently lounging on the couch, reading the recent sports news absently without really taking in the information, still absently trying to figure out her feelings for the men in her life, when her fireplace roared, and a head appeared in the fireplace, jolting Daphne from her thoughts.

As she took in the appearance of the head, she realized that it was her sister calling. She hadn't expected her, but the sisters did keep in touch and were quite close, especially after their mother's death.

"Astoria? What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in school?" Daphne asked, walking over to the fireplace.

Astoria had pursued a career in literature after Hogwarts, especially Muggle literature, since she was disillusioned with the Wizarding World, and was seriously considering putting the Wizarding World behind her and "going Muggle." It was only the thought of leaving Daphne and her father behind that kept her from that decision, but she was very interested in Muggle literature.

At first, their father had tried to dissuade Astoria from dabbling in Muggle literature, but Astoria would not be stopped. She'd gone on to Oxford pursuing a degree in Classical Literature, and was currently studying there.

Hence, why Daphne was confused.

"Classes are over, Daph. It's like seven." Astoria said, looking at her sister strangely. She'd been quite distracted recently, and wasn't herself.

"Huh? Well, how are you even talking to me in the Floo? The Muggle University can't have Floos."

"I Apparated home for the weekend. I'm back at the Manor." Astoria responded.

"Oh…" Daphne said, trailing off.

"Alright, Daph, what's wrong with you. You're… you're acting different. And it's not a good different. You seem to be incredibly distracted, and I imagine that that can't be good in your line of work."

"Huh? Nothing's wrong with me. I'm fine, Stori."

Astoria glared at her through the fire. She hated that nickname.

"How many times do I have to say that I hate the name 'Stori'? And I know you, Daph. There's something bothering you, and you're not telling anyone about it."

Daphne sighed. "Look, will you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Uh huh!" Astoria said, getting excited that perhaps finally, _finally_, her sister was going to tell her something.

Daphne leaned in, and whispered, "I'm in love."

Astoria made a high-pitched squealing sound. "I KNEW IT! Who is it?"

Daphne smirked. "Tracey."

Astoria's elation abated in a second.

"Daph." She whined.

Daphne merely said, "Astoria, I'm fine. I just have some things on my mind. I'll be back to normal soon. Don't worry about me, alright?"

This was so frustrating. It was like Hogwarts all over again, with Daphne never telling her anything. She was always the younger one, the less mature one, the one that didn't _need_ to know everything.

Well, she sure as hell did. She wanted to know what her sister could have been _thinking_ when she stayed to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts. What was going through that head of hers when she became a _sports agent_.

But, her sister would never tell her anything.

Well, if she wouldn't tell her… Astoria would just have to be annoying enough that Daphne would relent and give her something. And then Astoria would be able to figure out the rest. She prided herself on figuring out mysteries.

But first, she knew that she needed to talk to Blaise Zabini. Because if anybody knew anything, it was him.

**oOo**

** The most god-awful filler chapter I've ever written.**

** Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Serpentine Virtues Chapter 7**

** WARNING: Some mature subject matter. Nothing even remotely close to MA/NC-17 stuff, but I thought I'd put a warning here. Just in case.**

** This chapter was aided with copious amounts of advice from a few IRL friends (whose names shall not be disclosed for privacy purposes). But I thought I should give creds.**

** Words that are both bolded and italicized are Chinese dialogue translated into English.**

**Enjoy Chapter 7.**

**oOo**

The last few weeks before Easter came quickly. And Harry Potter was nervous. More nervous than he'd ever felt before on any date.

Fifth Year was Cho Chang. He'd done his best (which was awful, looking back at it now) to court her, and had succeeded…sort of. There was that disastrous Valentine's date, but honestly, Harry couldn't remember himself being nervous before that. The butterflies really only showed up on the day of.

Then, in Sixth Year, he'd gone on a couple walks around the lake with Ginny. Those had seemed…almost natural. Although Harry really couldn't say he was surprised, considering how well he knew Ginny. It was almost like talking to a sister, although it didn't feel like that at the time.

Now, though, just thinking about his quasi-date with Daphne brought that weird jumpy feeling into his stomach, and he started sweating lightly.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if the nervousness was a good thing or not. He'd known Daphne for years now, and yet, now he's nervous and jumpy just going to dinner with her? Had his feelings for her changed that much in the span of merely four months? Things had moved along incredibly quickly ever since Hermione's visit. The things that she'd said had really galvanized him into action, and now he was scared.

Sure, he had the standard "I really hope I don't embarrass myself" jitters, but this time, he was nervous just thinking about Daphne.

Still, he was visiting Ron and Hermione first thing after he left Hogwarts the day before Easter, and was staying with them for a night. That would hopefully give him some time with his best friends to calm down. He knew that Hermione would be happy for him, and would offer a lot of advice. While most of it would probably be useless to him, there was always the possibility that he'd pick up something really useful.

Evidently, Rose was quite excited at the prospect of seeing him. Hermione had written him a letter the week before detailing how Rose was very excited to see her "Oncle Hawwy".

Harry had smiled at that.

It was the Friday before Easter break, and he was packing his bags, getting ready for his little excursion away from Hogwarts. He was half-surprised that he'd found a home here at Hogwarts as a Quidditch instructor, but he also knew that Hogwarts would probably always represent home to him.

A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts. Wondering who it could possibly be, he called, "Enter".

The door opened to reveal Aurora Sinistra, who stood nervously in the doorway.

Harry, surprised by her appearance, and not entirely sure what exactly she wanted, tossed the pair of socks he'd been holding into the rucksack he'd been planning to take with him, and stood up.

"Aurora! What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Harry, I hope I'm not intruding on anything important…" Aurora said hesitantly, seeing the mess in the room that was the result of Harry throwing things around while packing his rucksack.

Harry scratched the side of his face, slightly embarrassed to be caught while having such a messy room. Still he was a guy, and guys generally had messy rooms. It just happened that way.

"No, no, it's fine. I was just packing for my trip." Harry said.

"Oh. Where are you going?" Aurora asked.

"Just going to see my friends." Harry said vaguely. While the awkwardness had mostly disappeared from their relationship, and indeed, Harry had even taken to sitting next to the Astronomy Teacher during mealtimes in an effort to improve their awkward relationship.

It had worked for the most part, and Harry could now say with confidence that after Neville and Minerva, he trusted Aurora the most. She'd been witty, intelligent, and slightly flirtatious in their conversations, and Harry found that he quite enjoyed talking to her. He'd even made a point to visit her after lessons were over occasionally. The two had developed quite a friendship over the past couple of months.

Still, Harry didn't want to touch on the subject of Daphne with her. At least not yet. He wasn't sure, but he just felt that it'd be safe keeping any dates or even quasi-dates away from Aurora, because he didn't want the conversation to get too awkward.

There always seemed to be _something_ between them, and Harry wasn't particularly sure what exactly it was. He also didn't really want to find out, especially when he was this confused about his feelings for Daphne.

Indeed, there was a lot riding on this weekend outing, and Harry hoped that most of his questions and feelings would be resolved by the end of the trip.

"Oh? Who are you seeing?" Aurora asked, jolting Harry from his thoughts.

"Just Ron and Hermione. I haven't seen them in a while." Harry responded.

"That's nice to hear that you all are still friends after all these years." Aurora said, smiling.

"Of course, we've been through hell together." Harry said, mentally pushing back some of the awful memories from the war.

"Well, I have to get going. I've got a night class to prepare for. Have a safe journey Harry." Aurora said softly, with a hint of…_something_ in her voice.

"I will." Harry said, smiling as he watched Aurora leave. She paused in the doorway, and Harry thought she would say something, but she just looked at him for a brief moment, and walked out the door.

The smile dropped from his face after the door closed behind her. Were those…_tears_ he saw in her eyes? Harry immediately discounted that thought. Why would she be crying? He blamed it on a trick of the light.

He turned his attentions back to packing, but he had a lot of questions that he'd pushed into the back of his mind. It was strange that Aurora had come to see him, especially when now she was very likely to be late for her Astronomy class. What had she really wanted?

Throwing the last few things into his rucksack, Harry dismissed his thoughts, and climbed into bed. His thoughts turned towards seeing his friends the next day, and a smile came to his face almost unconsciously. He'd not seen them for a few months now, and he was really looking forward to this visit.

**oOo**

_Laughter filled the bright summer air, and Daphne couldn't help, but smile, watching the children play and laugh in the yard. She and Harry had invited all their friends over, and they'd all come for this celebration. It was James' sixth birthday, and they were throwing a big birthday party for him. Daphne always thought that Harry put a lot of effort into these parties, and she knew that it was most likely because he never wanted his children to feel the pain of a neglected childhood like he had._

_ She smiled at the scene in front of her. Rose, who was four years older than James, had always preferred a book like her mother, but this time, James and Hugo had managed to coax her away from the book she'd been reading (_Hogwarts: A History)_, and she'd joined in with their game._

_ Suddenly, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around hair, and lips pressed to her head. _

_Without turning around, she said, "Hello, love."_

_She felt the lips on her head twitch into a smile, and the arms tighten around her._

_Turning around, she slipped her arms around his neck, entangling her fingers in the messy jet-black hair, and kissed him softly._

_Harry smiled back at her, and said "I love you."_

_She'd always been enthralled by him. His eyes enchanted her; his lips captivated her, and his body seduced her._

_She'd never regretted going on that date with him after he came back from injury. And then, after that one date, her whole life was turned upside down in six months and she was putting a ring on her finger by the end of the year._

_Those six months held memories that she treasured above all else._

"_Harry." She moaned against his lips._

_After breaking the kiss, Harry smiled at her._

"_Daphne."_

_Daphne tilted her head at him curiously._

"_Goodbye."_

_Daphne frowned. What…?_

The picture dissolved, and Daphne woke, clutching her pillow to her chest, wishing it was Harry.

This was the tenth time that she'd dreamed about him in the past three months. Each one placed her in fantasies with Harry. And each time, she woke, clutching something (usually her pillow) to her chest, and wishing that it was Harry.

Releasing her tight hold on the pillow, she realized that it was Easter weekend. Harry was coming this weekend. A smile came, unbidden, onto her face at the thought. She turned and caught sight of the clock on her bedside table. It read 7:16. It was time to get up anyways.

Getting out of bed, she padded to the bathroom and stripped out of her nightclothes before getting into the shower. As the warm water cascaded down her body, she thought about her dreams. They always featured her and Harry, sometimes married, other times as lovers. She would never admit it, but she almost…welcomed the dreams. It made her feel a lot closer to Harry than she had ever been.

Still, she hoped that the date the next day would prove to be what she'd been dreaming of since childhood.

As she got out of the shower, she turned her attention to the day's agenda. Evidently, Oliver's new team still wanted to go over some promotional things, and Daphne was obliged to be there as his representation. Then, she'd agreed to meet Blaise for lunch, and this time, even Tracey was coming. She still wasn't very happy that Tracey was dating Malfoy, in fact she was still pretty angry about it, but she wasn't going to sacrifice nearly twenty years of friendship over him. He'd already fucked up her life enough. There was no reason to lose a close friendship over him.

Besides, as long as Tracey didn't make her interact with Malfoy, she was fine.

The meeting had gone off without a hitch. She'd quickly Flooed Oliver, knowing that it was his off day for training, and that he was most likely still at home at 11 AM, especially if he'd been drinking the night before.

Oliver had, evidently, been drinking, and he was passed out on his sofa when Daphne's head stopped spinning through fireplaces, and she was looking out into his living room.

Daphne checked to make sure he was clothed. The last time that she'd tried to do the right thing and wake him up for his Quidditch practice (it had been around noon at the time), she'd stumbled upon a very naked Oliver Wood on top of some girl that she'd never met.

Needless to say, she'd avoided going to his house for a significant amount of time afterwards.

Still, it looked like he had shorts on, judging by the scrap of cloth that she could see through the legs of the dining room table, so she pulled her head out, before throwing a fresh handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, and stepping inside.

Oliver, it turned out, was shirtless, not that Daphne was particularly impressed. Sure, Oliver had quite an impressive body, but Daphne still had an image of a shirtless Harry stepping out of her shower one day after practice, so Oliver did nothing for her.

She tapped him on his shoulder a few times, shook him, even slapped him, but it did nothing. Oliver just laid there like a rock.

Rolling her eyes in frustration, she aimed her wand at his head, and muttered, "_Aguamenti_"

Sputtering and choking at the sudden torrent of water that splashed onto his face, Oliver spasmed and rolled onto the floor coughing, while shouting, "What the fuck was that for?!"

Daphne didn't even deign to respond, just tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for Oliver to recover.

When Oliver had finally wiped all the water off his face and took a closer look at his "attacker", he groaned.

"What time is it, Daph? And why are you here? I thought you avoided my house at all costs ever since that incident."

Daphne still flushed a little red at the memory of the incident.

"I'm here because, as a _responsible_ agent, I have to inform you that you've got a promotional signing two weeks from now. Got that?"

Oliver groaned. "You know I hate those stupid signings. I mean, I want to things for the kids, but just sitting there and signing stuff for hours just doesn't appeal to me."

Daphne rolled her eyes. They'd had this conversation thousands of times in the past. She was sick and tired of Oliver's whining, and she was going to be late for lunch if she lingered.

"I'm just telling you that it's going to happen. If you still want Cleansweep's sponsorship, you'd do well to attend that promotional. Now, I've got to go. Put on a shirt, and go eat something."

"Yes mother." Oliver deadpanned.

Daphne turned and walked towards the fireplace, satisfied that she'd gotten her message across.

Oliver, of course, couldn't resist one last, slightly perverted, jab.

"You know, from this position, your arse really is sexy."

Without even looking back, Daphne hexed him. The ensuing squeal of pain made Daphne smile, right before she entered the Floo again, calling out, "Diagon Alley."

**oOo**

"No, no, no, you morons. I want you to kill THIS Weasley, not THAT Weasley. Got it?" Cho Chang fumed, as she pointed through various pictures of redheads.

Gods damn those stupid Weasleys breeding like rabbits. They all looked very similar as well, although Cho thanked Merlin that one of the twins had been eliminated from the equation. She could just imagine the headache she'd have if she tried to tell the morons to kill THAT twin and not THAT twin.

Once again, Mr. Zhou had to suppress the anger within him at being called a moron. Honestly, there was so much friction between himself and the client that it was surprising that the whole situation hadn't exploded yet. Still, there was a lot of money involved, and Mr. Zhou could do anything for money. After all, that's how he got to his current position anyways.

"Ms. Chang. Please understand that it is extremely hard to tell this family apart. _Which_ ones do you want my organization to kill?"

Cho sighed in exasperation. It was a wonder that Mr. Zhou's organization could possibly be one of the most successful assassination corporations. Honestly, they were complete and utter idiots from what she'd seen so far.

Still, their reputation boasted a high success rate, and a guarantee of discretion, meaning Cho would not be implicated in any way if somehow, the assassins were found out and captured.

Cho didn't fancy the idea of Harry Potter coming after her in revenge. At least, not until he suffered through all the pain she had.

She didn't have anyone left in the world. Her friends had all deserted her after school because of her time in captivity. She'd realized, too late, that her friends were just shallow sheep who followed the most popular person in their lives, an exalted position that she'd held throughout most of her school years. Her family was gone, either dead, or mere shells of human beings, at the hands of Death Eaters.

She'd been in a very dark place, and only the notion of revenge kept her going.

She clenched her fist, digging her nails into her palm, containing the bubbling anger within her. She'd have the last laugh.

Cho Chang began to patiently explain to Mr. Zhou her selected targets.

Mr. Zhou shook his head. It was undeniably cruel, what Ms. Chang wanted to do.

But she had the money. And money talks.

**oOo**

In all honesty, Ron Weasley hadn't been prepared for fatherhood. And he knew it.

The good thing was, Hermione had definitely been prepared for motherhood. And she'd shown it from day one.

Rose, their firstborn daughter, had pretty much been under Hermione's care since the day she got back from St. Mungo's. And Ron was fine with that. He'd been hoping for a boy, so that he could instill the same passion in Quidditch, and especially the Cannons, as he'd had himself when he was a boy. Hermione called him sexist for it. ("_Ronald Weasley you sexist arse. Why on Earth can't young girls like Quidditch just as much as boys? Look at your sister, she was and still is an avid fan!)_.

That led to thoughts of Ginny. Ginny. The younger sister that he'd tried his entire life to protect…and failed. Both he and Hermione had been absolutely stunned when they'd heard the news. Shocked. Disbelieving.

Ron still wasn't entirely sure that he'd gotten over his sister's death. Hermione had grieved with him for a month. After all, Ginny had been her best female friend. Hermione had done a remarkable job moving on, somewhat, from Ginny's death, although sometimes, reminders would catch her, and she'd start crying.

Those occasions were few and far between though, thankfully.

Ron had now lost a brother and a sister. He had two brothers with physical scars that would never heal, and a whole family with mental scars that would never leave them.

He thanked whatever benevolent spirit was out there that he had Hermione.

Immediately after Ginny's death, Harry had gotten injured. With all the blood on the ground after the injury he sustained, Ron had been terrified that he'd lose both his best mate and his only sister in the course of two days. Thankfully, he'd been alright and stabilized at St. Mungo's. Ron and Hermione had been one of the first to see him there, although they did catch a glimpse of his agent, Daphne Greengrass, leaving his room in the morning looking quite tired, almost as if she'd spent the whole night there.

Judging by the relationship between Harry and his former agent now, and the way that Hermione kept ranting about how Harry was "too blind", and that he needed to "wake up and see that happiness is right in front of him".

While Ron didn't particularly like the idea of someone "replacing" Ginny, so to speak, as the love of his best mate's life, he wanted Harry to be happy. Hearing that he'd scheduled some kind of date with Daphne this weekend was good, and Ron hoped that the date would do Harry a world of good. He hadn't seen his best mate in a while, and the last time that they'd talked had been rather short, and Ron was too worried about Hermione to really catch up with Harry.

It was really nice that Harry was taking this little sabbatical from Hogwarts to come and visit. He looked forward to seeing his best mate again.

Ron looked at the clock. It read two forty-six. Only a quarter of an hour before Harry was due to arrive at around three. Where was Hermione? She'd wanted to be here (obviously) when Harry arrived, and had promised that she'd be back by two.

Ron frowned, but before he could do anything, a silver otter "swam" into the room. Ron sighed. He had never gotten exactly how to do messenger Patronuses, and it was incredibly annoying whenever Hermione bugged him about it. She wanted him to learn it so that they could have efficient communication when they weren't around each other, but honestly? He could never get the damned thing to work.

The otter opened its mouth, and Hermione's rather frazzled voice came out, "Sorry, dear, we're running a little late. I picked up the wrong size of that Chudley uniform for Rose, and she got a little… upset over it. It took me a little while to get her to calm down. She's normally so calm; I guess it shows how much she loves her Uncle Harry. Anyways, I should be back before Harry arrives, but just in case I'm not, do tell him where I am. And work on that messenger Patronus. I'm telling you, it's a much better form of communication than using Pigwidgeon. Love you, bye."

Ron was surprised that Rose had actually thrown what sounded like a tantrum, as Hermione definitely had sounded quite annoyed and tired. Rose had been exceptionally quiet, and exceptionally bright from childhood.

She loved Harry to death (sometimes Ron even joked that she loved him more than her own father) though, which was probably why she threw a tantrum. She hated being late when Harry came over, although his visits were getting rarer.

Ron was going to have to berate him for that.

Just then, the wards on the property alerted him that Harry was here. Walking to the front door, he opened it just as Harry came up the driveway.

"Hey Harry mate! It's been a while!" Ron said enthusiastically, greeting his best mate, who promptly ended the Levitation spell he'd had on his rucksack, and embraced the redhead.

"Ron, how are you doing? How's Rose?"

"They're great. Hermione's running a bit late, but Rose has been pining after you for years. You really do need to come around more often."

Harry smiled a little wistfully at that.

"I know. I just don't have much free time, and even less since I stopped playing Quidditch. At least I would have off days where I could visit when I played Quidditch. Now, though, McGonagall really is on your ass about work. It's almost as worse as back when we were at school, but at least I can still play Quidditch somewhat."

"Yeah…" Ron trailed off, a little subdued thinking about that day.

He'd been ecstatic, just like nearly the entire nation, watching England finally, _finally_, win the Cup.

But the joy and cheering was incredibly subdued, considering what had happened to his best mate.

Hermione's arrival brought both of them out of their thoughts.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, running at him. Harry braced himself, knowing what Hermione would do next. Sure enough, her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug, her bushy brown hair got all in his face.

"Mmph, om, nom." Harry gasped out, hair getting into his mouth, while he tried to speak.

Ron, watching the scene, decided to take pity on his friend.

"Hermione, let go of him, he can't breathe."

Hermione released her grip, and Harry took one breath…before getting wrapped up in a hug from a much smaller figure…who could only grab onto his legs thankfully.

"Uncle Hawwy! Uncle Hawwy!" Rose cried.

"Hey Rosie." Harry said, grinning, as he bent down to Rose's height.

"Don't call me Rosie!" Rose shouted, putting her hands on her hips.

"Okay Okay," Harry said, the smile widening.

"Where's my pre-sent?" Rose demanded.

Harry smirked, and, from his back pocket, produced a Muggle Barbie doll. Rose's eyes lit up at the sight of the doll, and she snatched the doll from Harry's hands faster than one could say "Quidditch".

Hermione immediately prompted her daughter, "What do you say, Rose?"

Rose, who had started running towards the house with her new treasure in her arms, turned around and said, "Thank you Uncle Hawwy."

Harry smiled and watched her go. He'd always loved children, and wanted his own someday. Maybe it was a leftover shadow from his childhood, but he just had this urge to have a child that he could care about, cherish, and love.

"Mate, she loves you more than either one of us." Ron said jokingly.

Meanwhile, Hermione, as was her wont, was lecturing Harry.

"Harry, how could you? I told you not to bring her a gift. Why do you spoil her so much?"

"Oh, please, the gift is nothing, Hermione. It cost like a few Sickles in Muggle money. Don't worry about it."

Hermione huffed, but decided not to say anymore. They headed inside, reminiscing, while Hermione told Harry about some new "never to be used before" methods of strengthening bones.

The rest of the night was mainly spent talking about the revolutionary potions and healing methods that people were coming up with.

Harry seriously suspected that it was because of him that they were doing it. And for once, he wasn't complaining about his fame.

Still, he had much more pressing matters to deal with. One of which was telling Daphne how he truly felt. Both his friends gave him similar advice.

"Harry, you just have to man up and tell her." Hermione said.

Ron put in, "Mate, just wing it."

And honestly, when Harry was lying on the bed in the guest room at his friends' house and thinking about the next day's date, he wasn't sure what he should do. He didn't want the news to be too abrupt for Daphne, especially considering how she must be very busy at this time of the year, in the spring, when every team was gearing up for the summer League tournament, and signing players onto their rosters.

Hermione had been quite adamant, just like she had been when she'd gone to Hogwarts, that he should go after Daphne before it was too late.

Punching his pillow in an attempt to get comfortable, Harry tossed and turned. It was getting quite late, and he still wasn't feeling drowsy. His lips were slightly chapped, so he grabbed his glasses and wand from the bedside table.

Sitting up, he conjured a glass, before pointing his wand into the glass and muttering, "_Aguamenti._"

He stood, taking a drink, and walked over to the window, looking out at the Muggle community that his friends lived in. It was a nice community, with little to no crime. As he was about to go back to bed, three loud pops were heard, and he immediately was on alert. That sure as hell sounded like Apparition.

Who would be Apparating here in the middle of the night? It made no sense. Harry was immediately on high alert. His instincts told him something wrong, and his instincts had served him well in the war against Voldemort. Besides, trouble seemed to follow him everywhere, so he quickly walked out of his room, and headed over to Ron and Hermione's bedroom. Knocking quietly, he waited.

Soon, a sleepy Ron opened the door, and said, "Mate—"

Harry clapped a hand to his friend's mouth just as they heard footsteps downstairs. Ron evidently had heard them as well, and he nodded, before disappearing inside, presumably to wake Hermione and grab his wand.

Harry strained his ears, and could just barely make out a few whispers. Still, he had no idea what they were saying. It wasn't even in a language he could understand.

"_**Hey, it's this way."**_

"_**So, which one is it we're taking down?"**_

"_**I think it's this one. See, this is the address. Right?"**_

"_**Stupid English people. How many 'Main Street's' are there in this community."**_

Harry was pretty sure that the people wanted to harm them, and so he kept a tight grip on his Holly wand. Harry saw Ron and Hermione come out of their bedroom, and motioned for them to come over to him, crouching by the staircase. They kneeled down next to him, and Harry summoned his Invisibility Cloak just as he heard the people downstairs begin to creep upstairs. He threw the Cloak over the three of them, and they crouched together, counting the number of people coming up the stairs. There were five people in total, and they all held wands.

Squinting hard in the dim light, Harry could also make out the glint of what looked like potion vials strapped to their chests.

Were they…assassins? And if so, who had hired them?

Ron elbowed him, just as Hermione cast Muffliato wordlessly around them, before whispering, "We have the element of surprise. Stun three of them, and then we have a three on two numbers advantage. Ready?" she asked, her eyes wide.

Harry could see the fear in them, and so he nodded and smiled encouragingly.

Together, they raised their wands, and with a whispered count, they threw off the cloak, and cast Stunners. The assassins, caught off guard, were hit. Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione had targeted the exact same assassin, and thus wasted a shot. Instead of the three on two advantage they had been hoping for, they got a three on three even fight. And the assassins were _good_. Ron nearly took a Cutter to the head, and only the quick shielding of Hermione saved him.

Meanwhile, Harry was outclassing his opponent. Unfortunately, his adversary was quite adept at shielding and dodging, although he was barely attacking at all. Harry was still careful, and made sure not to get cocky. Suddenly, all three of the assassins stopped fighting, and all took aim at Ron. Three Killing Curses sped from their wands and headed towards the redhead.

Harry's overpowered Blasting Curse nailed his target, and the assassin was blasted through the wall. Hermione also took down her target. Both were either dead or incapacitated.

Ron meanwhile, had quite literally dove off the stairs jumping down a flight of stairs. A loud "Crack" and a scream of pain was heard. Evidently, he had not made it out of his jump unharmed.

The remaining assassin, seeing all three Killing Curses miss, jumped after Ron in an attempt to finish him off, but Harry hit him with a Disarming Spell before he could do anything, and then Stunned and Body-bound him.

Harry and Hermione were both breathing hard, just as another moan of pain was heard. They rushed downstairs to see Ron cradling his arm, while his leg was bent in an unnatural position. Meanwhile, more pops were heard outside. Harry, on alert, snuck to the door and looked out the peephole. They were Aurors, but they couldn't enter the property.

Harry remembered the wards on the property. How had the assassins gotten by the wards? It didn't make any sense.

Still, he opened the door, and headed outside. The Aurors immediately reacted to his presence, and pointed their wands at him whilst one of them shined a light on him. Seeing that it was him, they immediately lowered their wands and came forward.

"Mr. Potter? Why are you here? What happened? We got reports of a lot of spellfire around here."

"We were attacked. Some assassins who didn't speak English found us, and attempted to murder Ron."

"They attacked Mr. Weasley? Are you sure? They didn't try to fight you?"

"They fought us, but after the fight had gone on for a little bit, they all suddenly switched focus, and they all fired AK's at Ron. He escaped, but he's got a broken arm and leg to show for it."

"Alright, Mr. Potter. We'll help Mr. Weasley to the hospital, and then take a full statement from you."

Harry nodded, just as Hermione came out, levitating Ron, who was unconscious.

They quickly brought Ron to St. Mungo's where he was evaluated, and pronounced fine after they healed his leg and arm quickly. Ron woke up in the middle of the examination, and was quite disoriented, but a goblet full of Dreamless Sleep Potion helped put him back to sleep. Hermione decided to stay, and Harry was going to stay as well, but Hermione shooed him out, telling him that he still had a date the next day.

Harry argued that while the date was important, his best mate's health was even more important.

Hermione told him that Ron would be fine, and that Daphne wouldn't appreciate being stood up, despite the circumstances.

Harry finally acquiesced, and left the hospital around three AM after the Aurors had taken his statement.

He'd headed to a nearby hotel, and fell asleep almost instantly, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

**oOo**

**Thank you for reading. Please review.**


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